Pride is Forever
by MrsSparrowDarcy
Summary: Hermione has a falling out with her two best friends, and for some reason Draco Malfoy is willing to take their place. Between the curiosity and suspicion, they find something else begin to bloom; but is it too little too late?
1. The Beginning of the End

**Hey guys! So I posted this a while back- but I've decided to give it a bit of a makeover. The story is meant to be set in their 7****th**** year at Hogwarts but I've tweaked the plot a little, so everything up to book 5 is game. **

**I hope everyone can bear with me and enjoy! :D**

« La douleur est temporaire, la fierté est pour jamais »  
(Pain is temporary, pride is forever)

_The Beginning of the End_

The fire crackled and hissed angrily as Alan Avery toyed with the burning embers, pushing them around with an intricately wrought fireplace poker –one that had been generously donated to the Slytherin common room by Crabbe's family, along with the rest of the burnished fireplace.

The majestic room was in fact filled with decorations, furniture, extra supplies and even marble busts that had been placed in the room by the many prominent families who had made a tradition of attempting to show each other up. This occurrence was so commonplace that each year, before their first day of classes, the high-ranking Slytherins would take a vote to decide which objects could be cast into storage, in favor of the new gifts that they would receive. The students whose family's gifts would be voted against would live in shame for a few days while they tried to forget the insult. One would think that the most beautiful items or even the most useful items would be kept in the room, but no, that was not the criteria at all… and many an innocent fist-year carried the memory of these cruel trials with them as their first memory at a brand new school.

Draco Malfoy had only ever looked forward to these proceedings with joyous anticipation –the fear in the air was tangible, and the humiliation afterwards was the icing on the cake. Draco knew that he had nothing to fear from the "committee," in fact, he could bring in some tacky muggle painting and they would fawn over it and him as though he'd brought in a ruby chess set.

Avery continued to stir the embers silently, staring into them as though somewhere inside them lay the final paragraph of his charms essay. "Avery!" Draco barked in annoyance, "don't you have anything better to do than sit there, staring at the logs like a dead fish?" Avery jumped slightly, and to Draco's continued annoyance, proceeded to stare dumbly at him with his large brown eyes –apparently unable to answer the question.

"Malfoy!" he started, "I didn't see you there –I thought I was alone…" Draco forced himself to breathe calmly –it had not been a good day for him, and the younger boy wasn't making it any better…

"Well, now that you _have_ seen me, and we have established that you are in fact _not_ alone, is there any way that you can stop your bloody ruckus and let me finish my work before the rest of our bloody house stomps in from dinner?" Avery probably would have answered Draco's rhetorical question with an affirmative, but something happened to catch his eye. An ember, which had passed his notice before, was beginning to burn a nice little hole in the hand-made Peruvian rug that Blaise Zabini's mother had donated when they were in second year, and if the smoldering galleon-sized hole were to be discovered –which was only a matter of time, it would be taken as a direct offence against the Zabini's… and seeing as the Avery's had only just recovered from a scandal involving an inebriated uncle and several muggle 'entertainers', it was easy to predict whose side the rest of the Slytherin house would take.

But as Avery's shocked eyes met his gaze and silently pleaded with him, Draco couldn't help but to shift uncomfortably on the handsome leather couch that he'd been sitting on for the past half hour. As the pangs of pity continued to bombard him from the wide guileless eyes across the room, Draco decided that he'd never been too fond of the poncy pretty-boy Blaise anyways. Avery had already taken his fair share of sideways glances and whispered comments over the course of the past few of months, and nobody deserved to be shunned a week before Christmas break…

Avery trembled slightly under the combined pressure of the burnt rug and Malfoy's solid gaze.

Finally, the opened his mouth to speak, but Draco cut him off, before he could begin. "Honestly Avery! And I thought Crabbe was the slow one! We're in our seventh year, and you can't even manage a simple housekeeping spell?" Of course, the spell he was referring to was hardly simple and quite rarely used for housekeeping –rather, it was mainly used for repairing old or heavily damaged dark magic objects. It was a spell that Draco had learned in his spare time when he was in third year and had subsequently used to reassemble several objects that he had accidentally blown to smithereens in the midst of an angry row with his mother.

Draco walked menacingly towards Avery and crouched down. Slowly and carefully, he regenerated the burnt bits and soon the spot on the rug was nearly perfect. Draco was more than capable of repairing the carpet to its original splendor, but he chose to leave tiny and nearly unperceivable reminders of the incident in case he would ever need proof. He stood up immediately after he had finished and looked to Avery expectantly.

"I owe you one Malfoy." The younger boy blurted out after heaving a sigh of relief.

"Yea, well don't get too comfortable. I only did it to stop you from whining- little cry baby that you are…"

"I'm serious Malfoy," Avery insisted, "if there's ever anything I can help you with… I know I'm rubbish at charms, but my nanny always said I was practically born with a cauldron in my hand!" Malfoy nearly snorted at the thought, but managed to keep his composure long enough to formulate an intimidating reply worthy of his name.

"I'll keep the offer in mind. But for now, perhaps I can read in peace?" Avery blushed and bowed out of the room after repeating his thanks and apologies, leaving the blond boy alone in the flickering light of the fireplace.

Draco went back to his spot amongst the numerous open books and tried once more to make progress on his essay about transfiguring water. As his lifted his quill, a sharp screech above his head told him that he was no longer alone in the room. "Alexander?" he said, lifting his neat blond head in surprise to look at his father's majestic eagle owl. Alexander gave another screech and landed on the arm of the couch, taking care not to damage the soft material with his needle-sharp talons.

Draco slowly detached the letter from his outstretched leg, and quickly tested it for hexes –this was standard procedure for every letter that Draco received from home, no matter how innocent-looking. In his third year Lucius had begun to 'prepare him for the real world,' and after countless painful/annoying curses, Draco had irreversibly learned his lesson.

_Draco,_

_I hope this letter finds you well, and that you are continuing to uphold the Malfoy name along with your grades. I regret not having the time to respond to your last letter, these past weeks have kept me and your mother consistently busy. I will, however, say this much; you are yet young –there will be a time, but that time is not now. You are a student, and your only priority is to focus on your studies._

_There is another matter I wish to discuss. The annual Christmas Ball will not be held this year; I know that this is rather short notice, but your mother and I have suddenly found ourselves in the midst of a small crisis regarding our assets and will be leaving the Manor for a couple of weeks. I am afraid this means that you will have to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays. _

_Your mother has asked me to send along her regards, as well as a pair of Opaleye-hide gloves that we purchased for you on our trip to Australia last week. She asks you to remember to stay warm, and eat well over your break. _

_Regards, _

_Lucius Malfoy_

Ignoring the dark, opulent gloves that lay in the package, Draco gripped the letter tightly in his pale hands and re-read the second paragraph with growing infuriation. It was one thing that his father thought him too young, but to be left behind over the holidays like unwanted baggage at a train station; that was just too much to handle.

He had no doubt in his mind that the Malfoy assets were as secure as ever, and that the sentence actually meant that the Malfoy's were embarking on some mission for the Dark Lord –one that Draco would likely never know the details of… He growled angrily and threw the letter into the famished flames, watching his father's handwriting curl and glow until it fell to ashes.

How could father say that? He was old enough! He was ready! He'd been ready for a long time, just waiting to finally be accepted into their mysterious fold.

Lucius could make the country's top dogs kneel at his command; he could make witches and wizards pour gold at his feet just to get an ounce of his power –if Lucius wanted it done, it was done. All Draco had ever wanted was to become as great and powerful as Lucius was, and if the key to that power was to go through the Dark Lord, then so be it.

Truth be told, Draco had never really warmed up to the idea of serving the ghoulish leader of the Deatheaters, but he embodied all that Draco knew to be the truth, and therefore Draco had few other qualms about the subject –after all, if Lucius thought he was right, then who was Draco to contest?

But how could he ever become great if Lucius kept holding him down? It was as though he thought him worthless; unable to handle the grave responsibilities of the real world.

A creaking sound brought Draco back to the world of the living, and a moment later, a crush of black robes spilled into the room. "Draco!" a feminine voice exclaimed, "where were you at dinner? We missed you!" Draco turned towards the voice slowly and deliberately.

"I, unlike the rest of you apparently, actually have _work_ to do, and cannot spend hours upon hours in the great hall, Pansy…" Pansy pouted with her ruby red lips and put her hands on her hips, an act which made her look more like the terribly spoiled child that she was.

"Come on Draco, you've been like this for days!" she whined, and then asked in a softer voice, "Does it have anything to do with you-know-who?" Draco glared at Pansy, expecting her to get the hint and scram, but unfortunately for him, he failed to realize that Pansy was too busy wondering if he had noticed her new haircut.

"Pansy, I don't have time for this…" Luckily for Draco, Blaise, who had been watching the whole exchange, came to his rescue.

"Everyone listen up! The common room is now being commandeered by your superiors! Everyone who is not a seventh year wizard should kindly exit the room –or else…" Blaise was not exactly the best wandsman out of them all, but he had a large repertoire of nasty potions which he had few qualms in using when the occasion did arise. Blaise also knew how to take advantage of an opportunity when one showed itself –and an unhappy and peevish Draco Malfoy brought up several ideas.

"Draco," the dashing, jet-haired boy said amiably stepping towards him, "It looks like you could use a drink…"

The night went by in a rather large, amber and green blur for Draco and his compatriots as they proceeded to drink themselves into oblivion with Blaise's personal brew. Draco could not tell who was the most wasted bloke in the room; Crabbe, who was incessantly stroking Madame Pucey's horrifyingly flattered portrait, or the short, black-haired fellow, who was telling anybody who would listen about his run-in with the vampire/mermaid/siren/sphinx over the summer.

"Drrraaaco" a wine-slurred voice called out from the chatter, "where you going?" A very drunk Gregory Goyle stepped into view and leaned heavily upon an antique Chinese vase.

"I'm getting some fresh air Goyle," he replied, running a hand through his normally immaculate hair, "I shouldn't be gone long." And with that, Draco Malfoy disappeared… literally.

His footsteps were too soft to give him away, but that didn't stop him from hesitantly checking every corner before he crossed it. Then, calmly, he strode out of the castle, removing the disillusionment charm that he had cast upon himself earlier. Gingerly he massaged his throbbing head and headed off towards the Forbidden Forest. He had probably had too many mystery drinks that night, but a nice long walk along the edge of the forest would do him some good.

Draco felt life coming back into him as the December night air chilled his face and crept into his lungs. His father's words came back to him, echoing from the corners of his mind, stabbing him like needles –undoing him from the inside… "Worthless" he heard himself whisper to a sullen-looking tree, "He thinks I'm worthless…" Draco felt himself slowly fall to his knees, hearing only the crunch of frosty grass being crushed beneath his weight. A minute passed, where the world around him was silent, until suddenly a gin-soaked tear rolled into his mouth. He shuddered violently, but refused to sob aloud, hanging his head in shame –what would Lucius say if he could see his heir now?

**A.N.**

**Weeellll- that's chapter one! **

**In case anyone was wondering- The Antipodian Opaleye is considered to be one of the most beautiful dragons in the world due to the pearly scales that line its body. So I imagine they would be really shiny and pretty (now I really want a pair…).**

**I know I didn't include Hermione in this chapter at all, but rest assured people, she will show up and the plot will start to pick up right around chapter three. I've got so many disjointed ideas floating about but I'm so excited! Bear with me guys! **


	2. A sickness of the soul

"**The difference between truth and fiction is that fiction has to make sense "**

The acrid smell of singed red hair filled the room as Harry loudly congratulated himself for his second victory in a row. "That's it!" Ron huffed angrily, "I've got Arithmacy problems to solve. I can't sit here and play exploding snap all night just because you've got no homework…"

Harry Potter burst out in laughter and pointed a shaking finger at his best friend, "Ron, that look works for you mate, you'll have absolutely no trouble rounding up a couple girls for the Yule Ball!" Ron grimaced and hoisted himself from the soft carpet, leaving Harry to clean up. He looked about the room for a few moments until he found what he'd been looking for; sure enough, a tuft of bushy brown hair was sticking distinctly out from behind a maroon and gold armchair in front of the fireplace. The fire crackled in amusement as Ron snuck up behind the girl, scaring her out of her wits and subsequently spilling ink all over the potions essay that was due the following morning.

"RONALD WEASLY!" the angry witch shrieked furiously as she jumped to her feet and turned towards the offending wizard. "Do you know what you've done? This is due tomorrow! Professor Snape is going to kill me! This is the biggest essay of the unit! I'll never get these points back!"

Ron had now retreated to about half the length of the room and was currently somewhere between cowering behind Harry and answering back. "Calm down Hermione!" Harry interjected calmly, "I'm sure it was just an accident –and Merlin knows you don't need those points anyway…" Hermione turned her glare towards Harry, but Ron chose that moment to add to his statement.

"Yeah, calm down Hermione, we all know it won't take you more than five minutes to write another one." Several chuckles followed his comment, as though to say, yeah, typical Hermione'. Ron took her silence as forgiveness and took a step further. "And I'd really love it if you'd look at my Arithmacy sheet for me, I'm dead tired and there's just no way I could go over it myself." As if to prove his point, Ron stretched luxuriously and yawned loudly. Hermione did not budge in inch as Ron walked towards her with his homework in his hand, outstretched towards her. "Hermione?" he asked curiously, when she still hadn't moved from her original position.

"I can't believe any of you…"She said finally and with that she stormed up to bed, casting a silence charm on the curtains and shutting her eyes forcefully.

Her eyes remained shut for quite a while, but her mind refused to stop tormenting her. Ghostly gales of laughter echoed through her head and Ron's ignorance pierced her heart worse than any of Malfoy's cruel words had. When her eyes opened again, the room was dark and blurry. Hastily, she scraped the tears from her bloodshot eyes and got out of bed, taking care to avoid the loose floorboards. Feeling her way around in the moonlight, she reached her trunk. She hastily threw on her warmest clothes, slipped a heavy cloak over her shoulders and climbed out of the portrait-hole with trembling legs.

Ever since she could remember, people had always judged her by her intellect and study habits –rarely did anyone come along who saw the young woman beneath the books. When Harry and Ron had saved her life that Halloween, she'd discovered that at least two people saw her true character, but at times like these, she was always harshly reminded of the facts. The fact that she would always be the 'bookworm', she would always be the bushy haired freak, and that she would always be the one left standing in the corner…

Hermione tried desperately to push her thoughts aside as she had always done when they threatened to overwhelm her, and focused solely on getting to Hagrid's hut. The half-giant was attending a summit meeting of sorts with several big-shots in the giant world, and wasn't due back for quite a while. Therefore, Hermione felt completely justified in sneaking into his house in the middle of the night for a little repose and space to clear her head, which was by now very crowded indeed. She was jolted out of her thoughts as she suddenly happened upon a rock. The ground was hard with frost and the ice bit her skin like dozens of angry ants. She cursed quietly and tried to pick herself up, but to no avail –her legs seemed to loose function along with her mind which had gone blank save for Ron's words, and torrents of crescendo-ing laughter.

Hermione bit her lip in frustration, but did not try to move for another few moments. This time, she used all of the self-control she could muster and blocked out the harsh sounds –now was not the time to break down. She looked down upon herself and realized that she was quite wet. The ice had melted beneath her and in the silvery moonlight she imagined that the front of her clothes looked as though they had been stained with blood. She let out a short humourless laugh as she realized how ironic it all was –she was going to an empty hut to cry so that no one would know how upset she was, but the reason she was upset was because no one seemed to realize how their words upset her …

Hermione had known she was special ever since she was a child. Strange things kept happening around her –especially when she was extremely angry or unusually happy –things that neither she nor her parents had ever been able to explain. It had always been; "How did Mrs. Cholly's sweater turn red Hermione?" and "How did Alice's ball go flat Hermione?" and "How on earth are my roses blooming in October?" Unfortunately for Hermione, these things that seemed weird to her and her parents seemed downright scary to the neighbourhood kids, and being an only child, Hermione was soon faced with a lonely childhood. Everywhere she turned, all she saw were turned backs, furtive looks, and whispered words –of which the all time favourite was undoubtedly; 'freak'. She had hoped and dreamed of one day finding friends who would understand her and look past her oddities. She threw herself into fairytales, plays, novels, scientific documents, mathematics theory books and text books far beyond her peers' abilities. So when Hermione received her letter from Hogwarts all of those years ago, she'd been hysterical with joy –her hopes had soared like she'd never before allowed them to. She'd spent the rest of the summer learning _everything_ about her new home –her new life. She'd never even imagined that her utopia, her safe haven, her dream, would be so tainted; barely a month passed before she realized that it was no different from the muggle world –the only difference being that rather than being ostracized for being a witch, she was ostracized for being born to people who hadn't a drop of magical blood in their veins. Her dreams had been shattered and her hopes dashed to ground and trodden upon by so many apathetic faces in pointy hats. As a matter of fact, she'd nearly gotten herself killed when one of Ron's insensitive comments had finally pushed her over the edge…

Angrily, she blinked back the salt-water which was threatening to inundate her eyes. Why should she cry when they were the ones who would suffer the most from their actions? They could just 'correct' their own homework from now on…She rubbed her freezing hands together and trudged up an icy knoll, this time with her eyes trained firmly on the ground… The ground was slippery, but Hermione had always believed in dressing sensibly –unlike other witches who felt the need to wear horrifically high heels or uncomfortably tight robes. She let out a small squeal as she nearly did slip on an icy patch and awkwardly flailed her arms about like a baby bird learning to fly. As she struggled to regain balance, she saw something in the distance, by edge of the Forbidden Forest –and it was moving…

The object, which she now clearly recognized as a person, seemed not to have noticed her. Hermione found that her legs were once again malfunctioning, because despite the fact that the mysterious figure was probably not someone you would want to run into near the Forbidden Forest, she could not shake the feeling that the person was… crying. She watched, transfixed, as the figure's shoulders heaved up and down and yet, not a single sound escaped its' lips… She wondered faintly if it was a student, and if her Head Girl position obligated her to comfort them. Suddenly, the figure stopped moving altogether and before she knew it, a stream of red light hit her square in the chest and she saw no more.


	3. Promises made to be broken

"**Talent does what it can, genius does what it must"**

Draco Malfoy did not cry. This was a fact and could probably even be medically proven by any decent healer who knew what was good for him… However, on the improbable occasion that he did break down, it was always done in certain situations; he was either intoxicated, in unbearable pain, or completely exhausted –and on this particular night, he was all three. His shoulders shuddered as he fought off the urge to sob out loud, teardrops burning holes in the pearly frost before him. His hood drooped low over his face, so that his eyes were obscured –not that he was seeing much out of them at the moment anyway.

Suddenly, a soft noise brought him hurtling back from his cold thoughts. Someone was there… had someone followed him back from the common room? If they'd been watching this whole time, then there was no doubt that they knew what he was doing here… and with that thought, Draco began to laugh. His chuckling was as silent as his sobbing, but this time he felt hysterical. His face broke into a maniac grin and the residual tears in his eyes shone like diamonds in the reflected moonlight. The irony of his situation dawned upon him; out in the middle of the night on the edge of the forbidden forest crying his eyes out like a child because his daddy didn't think he was good enough. Well, if whoever was out there was one of his fathers many spies (yes, Lucius actually paid off students in several houses to keep tabs on Draco and the rest of the castle) then Draco might as well go up to Lucius the next day and start bawling like a baby right in front of him just to seal the deal… not to mention that no matter who they were, they'd probably revel in the opportunity to humiliate Draco in front of the entire school –that was a slight downside in Draco's position of reigning prince of the Slytherin house. So there was only once choice; stun the rat and use any means necessary to convince the bastard that it was in his best interests to keep his trap shut.

Draco –suddenly very alert –whipped around, pulling his wand out as quickly as he could close his fist around a snitch. "Mortificus" he whispered hoarsely and a jet of blue light issued from his wand. He watched with a pleased grimace as the dark silhouette was thrown back like a rag doll onto the cold hard ground by his permanent stunning spell. "Now let's see who you really are…" he muttered to himself as he trod as steadily as he could towards the crumpled figure.

Draco walked up to the mysterious person with caution, for all he knew, he'd missed and the spy had pretended to get hit so that they could stun him when he came to inspect. He aimed his wand straight for their heart and walked closer. The closer he got, the more obvious it became that this person –whoever it was, was certainly female… her frizzy auburn hair obscured her face, but with one look at the brown mane, Draco knew that it could only be one person. "Shit." Of all people he could have ended up stunning in the middle of the night, it just _had _to be her… Any Hufflepuff, Slytherin or Ravenclaw, he could have dealt with. Griffindors could be trouble, but years of expertise told him that if he played his cards right, most of them would walk away with their lips sealed –but Hermione Granger! She'd not only trumpet it to the whole school, she'd report this to that kooky old headmaster of theirs! He'd be expelled _and_ humiliated! If he left her here with a heating charm to last through the night, however, she could never prove anything… in fact, she probably hadn't even seen his face… all he would have to do is wait for morning, and her two buffoons would go racing around the castle, looking for her like lost puppies. It would not only be a satisfying end to his evening, it would be the perfect prank! No one would get hurt and no one would have any evidence.

Draco grinned to himself as he crouched down to inspect her pockets –sometimes he was just too clever for his own good.

…………………………

The common room was just as he had left it, save for a dozen or so unconscious bodies. Other than that, the 'party' seemed to be in full swing; as in the remaining Slytherins were unabatedly continuing to drink themselves into a stupor like their fellow housemates. Draco shook his head in disgust and continued on to the dorm room. When he got there, he couldn't help but to laugh at the sight before him –several of his peers had attempted to abort the party before they ended up like Crabbe (lying on the ground, drooling on himself, with his hand dangerously close to the fireplace) but unfortunately they hadn't gotten very far, seeing as most of them were lying in fetal positions on the dusty carpet.

Changing hastily out of his robes, Draco donned the warmest pajamas he could find and slipped into the four-poster bed with a sigh. Minutes passed slowly with each jerk of the clocks' hands but sleep still evaded him. He tried his best to block out the imagined sound of his fathers ruthless laughter as he penned the reply letter. Draco knew that it was all in his head; for one, Lucius would never do anything as gauche and cliché as howling with laughter whilst writing a letter. Despite his repeated attempts, Draco could not keep his eyes shut for more than a few seconds, and he found himself sitting up in his bed, wondering if he should have just taken Blaise's advice and drowned his sorrows in several pints of wine and firewhiskey…

SLAM! Draco looked up groggily to find an even groggier and greener Gregory Goyle slumped in the doorway. "Drraaaco? Is that you?" he queried drunkenly as he dragged himself towards Draco's bed. "Draco, I prob-ab-ab-ably shouldn't 'ave 'ad so m-" Unfortunately for both of them Goyle never got to finish his sentence, because he was momentarily too preoccupied with spewing the contents of his stomach all over Daco's bed. Draco leapt out of bed the moment he saw Goyle approaching and was thankfully saved. Goyle looked absolutely horrified and was raising his wand to clean up the mess when Draco's stunning spell hit him in the jaw.

"Scourgify!" Draco muttered angrily at his sheets, instantly cleaning them. Then he turned towards Goyle and released him from the spell "Agua!" a stream of water erupted from Draco's wand and Goyle awoke only to find himself completely soaked.

"What –what was that for?" Goyle asked angrily, miraculously coming out of his daze.

"You didn't actually think, that I was going to let you point a wand at me in that condition, did you?" Draco replied calmly.

"Well, you could have at least _warmed_ the water! Do you know how cold it is?" he replied with a shiver. Draco was about to tell him that if he wanted warm water, he could take a much-needed bath, but before he could say anything his heart gave a nasty tug at his chest and his mind was pulled back to the unconscious head girl that he had left outside… _without a heating charm._

His heart began to pick up it's pace and he wasted no time in throwing on the warmest clothes he could find as well as his best cloak. "Hey, Draco –Draco, where're you going?" Draco's only reply was to cast a disillusionment charm on himself and run out of the room as quickly as possible. How long could one last in subzero temperatures with a shoddy cloak like Grangers? What if she was already dead? They would hold an investigation no doubt, and the only one who would come into question would be him… He'd go straight to Azkaban and no one would miss him. Draco sped up at the thought, narrowly ducking behind a statue of some old hag to avoid that damnable cat and then made a beeline for the forbidden forest.

When he arrived, panting and sweating, despite the snowflakes that had begun to fall from the moonlit sky, Hermione had already gained a fine veil of snow. Draco stood above her, staring at her for a moment, trying not to think about how nearly it resembled a death shroud. He stooped down and put his fingers to her frigid neck, checking for a pulse. He heaved a sigh of infinite relief when he detected one, though it was faint, at least she was alive. Her skin was a ghastly white, comparable more to ash than snow and her lips were nearly as pale –tinged only with the blue of deoxygenated blood. Quickly, Draco hoisted the unconscious girl into his arms and rushed towards the half-giant's hut. Draco thanked his lucky stars that their monstrous Care of Magical Creatures professor was gone for the moment –the oaf would waste no time in feeding Draco to his horrid pets if he saw him lugging an unconscious Granger around… He trudged unsteadily to the door, pulling his wand out while holding Granger in his arms was no easy task, but he managed to throw open the door. The wooden floor was rough, but at the very least it provided him with much better traction, and Granger's chances of falling and getting the textbooks knocked out of her for good were significantly decreased.

He walked over to the gargantuan bed and laid her down, wrinkling his nose at the odd smell. Should he take the spell off of her? Would it even make a difference? Draco finally decided that if his suspicions were correct, Granger was probably better off without the spell –even though she'd most likely still be unconscious, with or without the spell.

Several failed heating spells later, Draco realized that if he was going to save her, he was going to have to try something else. He hastily removed her soaking wet cloak and robes, hoping with all his might that she was decent underneath… He let go of his breath when he saw the long-sleeved muggle shirt and pants that she had on underneath and took off his own cloak. The cloak had been purchased in Romania for his 14th birthday, it was one of the most expensive cloaks he owned because of the everlasting heating charm that had been spun into every thread –and now he was wrapping it around a muggleborn…

The question of 'why' still hung heavily on his mind, but he pushed it back, focusing his energy on the situation before him. Throughout the night he floated about the pool-sized bed; adjusting the cloak, checking her pulse, peeking warily out through the curtains at the glistening knolls –anything to keep his mind off of the thoughts he wanted desperately to avoid.

Hours had passed, and she was beginning to shiver violently. Her face contorted with pain as she vainly struggled for more warmth. Draco rushed about the rudimentary kitchen and boiled a huge pot of water; dipping a clean rag into it and setting it upon her forehead like he'd read in the books seemed to calm her violent spasms sufficiently –but the stricken look on her face remained constant, he could do nothing about that.

When she had finally reached a semi-stable state, the sky was beginning to brighten, and Draco's eyes were starting to flutter. 'No,' he commanded himself, he couldn't sleep now; he had to get back to the castle or risk being caught. He pulled his cloak from the witch and instantly regretted it as she began to whimper and pull herself into a fetal position. Draco gingerly pulled the grimy looking bed-covers on top of her with a disgusted look on his face; no matter how many cleaning spell he cast at the moldy-looking rag, it still smelled as though a house elf had died in it. He cast one last look towards the sleeping witch and decided that she'd survive. Quickly, he left the horrid hut and headed to the dungeons for as much sleep as he could get; he still had classes to attend…

………………………..

Hermione shuddered under the coarse covers and pulled them tighter. Her body felt hot and cold at the same time, and yet she couldn't figure out why. Her mind was sluggish and the only lucid thought she could muster was that no matter what happened, she needed to stay warm. She vaguely mused about her classes and why she felt so angry, but for a long time nothing came to her.

Slowly she let her eyelids float open, dreading the piercing ray of light that tended to find her irises every morning, but to her surprise it was nowhere to be found. In fact, the curtains were pulled firmly shut, and by the looks of them, they were made of mismatched old tablecloths… Hermione sat up with a wide-eyed jolt –she was in Hagrid's hut. How had she gotten in Hagrid's hut? Head began to pound and her heart beat fast –the last thing she remembered was snow –snow and laughter… this should have comforted her, but somehow it only made the throbbing worse. Hermione shivered uncontrollably, she hated the feeling of not knowing what was going on. She had no knowledge of entering Hagrid's hut, but when she thought more, she realized that she had left the castle voluntarily in the middle of the night for that purpose.

Ron, she thought suddenly. Ron had been the reason that she was so angry! He'd done something stupid and thoughtless again! Hermione angrily massaged her forehead in a vain attempt to assuage the pain. How was it that every time that oblivious doofus screwed up, she was the one who had to eventually go to him? Why was it that he never realized that he was wrong until it was too late to apologize and the argument turned into nothing but pointless bickering between friends. Not only that, but Harry always took Ron's side –without exception. He had proved to her time and time again that when it came down to it, their trio was really a duo with an extra wheel. Suddenly Hermione's head felt as though it were about to split in two. Slowly, she lowered her head to the scratchy pillow and bit her trembling lip. Why did it always end this way? Crying in the dark?

………………………..


	4. Treading deep waters

"**Humor is everywhere, in that there's irony in just about anything a human does."  
- ****Bill Nye**

Somehow, it was noon by the time that Hermione managed to gain consciousness once more. The sun shone waveringly through the shallow black clouds and the branches dripped with the soggy remains of the pervious nights' snowfall. Hermione didn't bother getting up this time, but simply lay in the crude but warm bed, feeling considerably less feverish than she had four hours ago. And somehow, the fact that Charms had come and gone without her turning in her paper seemed not to burden her mind as much as it had the night before. Hermione nearly chuckled at herself; how many times had she stressed herself out to the point of almost causing herself harm? More times than she cared to remember.

Hermione pulled her unwilling feet out from under the heavy blankets and shuddered violently as the winter chill seeped into her bones. Why on earth had she gotten into bed with her shoes on? And how many classes had she missed? How many meals had she missed? Were Harry and Ron even upset? Then she remembered how she had left them last night, but still… she was Hermione Granger, she wouldn't miss classes for the Reaper! Perhaps they thought she was sick? Who cares what they think? Nagged a little voice in her head, it was their fault that she was here in the first place…

Quickly she fixed the sheets on the gargantuan bed and hesitantly glanced at her watch, dreading what she would see. Sure enough, she'd missed most of her classes, and she would be late to Arithmacy as well, if she didn't hurry. Rooting through the kitchen, Hermione quickly realized that there was little there for her eat. She made do with a large chunk of tough bread and glass of conjured water. Refusing to look at the time just yet, she hurried about, fixing her reflection quickly in the mirror and jogging unsteadily out through the large wooden door, past the pumpkin patch and towards the school.

The snow covered weeds snagged at her ankles and the harsh winter wind chilled her bones, but Hermione was nothing if not single minded, her head might still be a little foggy, as she tried fretfully to recollect the previous night's events, and the effects of a fever still lingering, but somehow she had to get to class, and prove to everyone that no matter what happened in her life, her education would always be a priority. She had to prove that she was far above the heads of those whiney little witches who spent whole class periods shut in a bathroom stall, crying their eyes out for some fickle wizard whose love had been as fleeting the passions of any young man. Hermione had often wondered how they could justify jeopardizing their own education over a couple of frivolous rendezvous. She could not imagine, even for a moment, that sort of passion –Hermione Granger was not the type who wasted her precious time lingering over weather or not anyone would find her robes more or less fashionable than the next witch. Hermione Granger did not focus on such matters, and everyone knew it. When she'd been accepted into Hogwarts, Hermione thought that her life was suddenly turning around. Her naive little self had actually believed that magic was different from reality and that when she entered the world of magic, her life would be filled with endless joy and gaiety, never again would anyone tease her about her hair or her teeth, or even her insatiable desire for books of any flavor. Then the harsh realities had hit her, and her hopes had been completely shattered, she wasn't loved and cherished here –it was just as bad as the muggle world… Then came Harry and Ron, blindly stumbling into the dark recesses of her life, lighting the corners of her mind with friendship and replacing the festering, old memories with fresh, joyful ones. But lately things had been amiss, Ron's careless tongue had become far too careless, and Harry was simply exhausted from his constant nightmares, and unable to deal with anything. As a result, Hermione was more and more becoming the mother figure, a role that she hated, yet played well all the same. She knew that they resented her for that, how could they not? They were grown boys, on the verge of adulthood, ready to cast off into the wide world, and here she was, anchoring them, just as they were ready to set sail. Hermione wasn't frivolous or petty, therefore she said nothing, but when it really came down to it, she knew that it was _her_ good sense that had kept them from nearly dying scores of times. Not to mention education, she knew that in a time of crisis, things had to be prioritized, but the world had to go on, and it wouldn't put itself on hold simply because Harry and Ron didn't feel like coming to class that day.

Stewing in her own thoughts, Hermione gathered her books and rushed down in the direction of the History of Magic classroom, there were three minutes left until the bell, and she fully expected to make it on time. Hastily she rounded a corner and tripping straight into another student, landing ungracefully on her stomach, leaving several loose sheets of parchment to float down from above her. Humiliated and aching from the tenderness that the fever had brought on, Hermione winced to her feet, only to find herself face to face with none other than Draco Malfoy.

………………………….

Apparently, three hours was not nearly enough sleep for one Draco Malfoy, and in a human effort to spare Hogwarts from the wrath of an exhausted Malfoy, Draco chose to shut his curtains and stay in bed for a few more hours. As it turned out, a few hours was an incredibly large underestimate, and by the time Draco regained consciousness, it was half past one, and he'd missed all but two of his classes. The next half hour was a blur of activity, and once he'd summoned all of his books and supplies, and grabbed a bite from the kitchens, Draco finally headed off to Divination, where he'd make up some bullocks about Potter's head exploding and get a considerable amount of praise from the kooky old professor. Rounding a corner, Draco saw a mess of bushy auburn hair flying towards him, when they collided; it took all of his seeker skills to keep his balance. Her papers went flying all over the place, and normally Draco would have passed along some snide comment and kept on walking, but he couldn't turn away from the sight that was before him. Hermione Granger, sprawled on the ground, just as she had been the night before, Draco shuddered to recall the horrid feelings that were beginning to well up at the back of his throat. He found that even as she picked herself up off the ground, he couldn't move, or even find something clever to say, she lifted her shocked eyes to his stricken ones, and before he knew what was happening, the words flew out of his mouth.

"Are you okay?" he queried with a haunted look on his face. Hermione stood paralyzed; nothing had prepared her for those three words, nothing. Opening her mouth seemed to accomplish nothing but deepening her humiliation, so she quickly shut it and nodded curtly, hurrying to gather up her things, hoping that he would simply walk away and life could carry on as it should. Doing everything in her power to keep from turning back towards him, Hermione had picked up all of her things and was scurrying off when she heard his voice once more.

"You dropped this." Slowly she turned around once again, and there, in the middle of the hallway stood Malfoy, holding out her History of Magic Book in one hand. Cautiously she approached him, as though fearing his fangs, took her book, mumbled a brief thanks, and continued on her way. This was just too much. Had the world simply turned on it head this morning, or was this all some strange, twisted dream? If she'd been in a proper state of mind she would have acted differently, but in her current state, she didn't have the energy to be angry, or suspicious –only timid, and normally she would have been ashamed of herself, but nothing mattered at the moment, except for reaching that classroom on time.

………………………….

Draco watched her hasty retreat with silent fury; he'd asked her if she was okay, he'd even picked up her book! And all she had to say was "thanks"? What he'd really wanted to know was if she was delirious at all? if the fever had broken yet? if she had any recollection of the night before? She seemed almost afraid of him, could it be that she'd seen more than he'd thought? What if she were to spill the beans? He'd be humiliated! He'd be expelled! But he couldn't risk spooking her more than he already had.

Draco continued on his sojourn at a lazy pace, he had time. He still couldn't believe that the words had actually come out of his mouth; he hadn't even known that they could! Draco Malfoy did not go around doing things like that, but then again, Draco Malfoy didn't spend hours upon hours nursing frozen mudbloods either. In fact, he could hardly recall a single instant where he'd been responsible for the wellbeing of another creature. There had been that cat that his mother had bought for him when he'd been young, but that poor bastard had eventually gotten sick of being neglected and run off when it had gotten the first chance. But last night had been something else, beyond the cold fear of becoming a murderer at the age of sixteen, Draco had felt something else tugging at him, urging him to move his exhausted limbs and tend to the quaking witch. He hadn't cared to sort through his feelings and find what exactly that had been, but now that the sight of her, feeble and quaking, had brought in on once again, Draco knew he had to do something about it; the alternative was simply unacceptable.

"Oi! Draco!" Said person's head snapped to the side quickly to meet the indiscernible eyes of his classmate.

"Blaise? What're you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in class?" Blaise chuckled lowly with no smile on his face whatsoever.

"I could ask you the same, but I'll keep out of your business –what I was going to ask was why you left so early last night? Weren't you having a good time?"

It was a loaded question, and Draco was Slytherin enough to know it. If he said that he was having a good time, it would mean telling a blatant lie and setting Blaise on guard, and answering in the negative would be a slap across the face to Zabini and subsequently. all of his connections. It was a minor thing, but tired as he was, he chose his words carefully and with a charming smile.

"Blaise, you know it's impossible not to have a good time at one of your parties." And then continued with a smirk, "Is it a crime to hold private meetings with a certain female prefect after hours?"

Blaise chuckled once more, but this time Draco could sense a grain of actual mirth in the sound. "Course you did Malfoy, should have known better! We're both dreadfully late, I'll see you later." With that, he turned into another corridor and walked out of Draco's view. Draco shook his head in disgust, the only thing Blaise understood was money, women and potions, all else flew straight over his pretty little head.


	5. The Pond

**Finally, a new chapter (huzzza!) I've been putting this off for way too long, but I think I've finally found the impetus to finish. **

**Anyway, here's the one we've all been waiting for- their first real conversation! Woo!**

Hermione had not even considred going to Hogsmead that weekend; she still had a slight cold from her ill-advised stint in Hagrid's hut, and with her two closest friends still not on speaking terms with her, she had no motivation to traverse the snowy village by herself. But she couldn't shake the paranoid feeling that she was being watched, and with the castle all but empty for most of the day, the thought of staying behind gave her an uneasy feeling. So away she went, unhurriedly climbing into one of the last carriages with Luna and Neville. Their conversation was scant, for which Hermione was grateful, and by the time the carriages came to a halt, they had lapsed into a comfortable silence. Luna had plans to visit the bookshop, and Neville apologetically departed along with her, leaving Hermione alone once again. Not that she was complaining, a quiet walk in the snow would be the perfect remedy for the headache that had been sporadically plaguing her for a week.

The air was still and it felt like the world were holding its breath as she slowly made her way towards the Shrieking Shack. She spied the shack sitting glumly in the distance, isolated in a field of pristine snow, as she rounded another turn. Hermione realized that the walk had not gotten her thoughts out of her head at all, and was gloomily considering turning back towards the village and taking a carriage back to the castle when the sudden crunching of snow under boots reached her ears. Realizing that her cheeks were wet with tears and her eyes bloodshot as well, Hermione frantically turned back the way she came to avoid being seen. But, the boots were catching up to her, and she knew it probably wouldn't be long before someone she knew would recognize her bushy mane and call out to her, and the last thing she wanted was to speak to anybody.

Spying an overgrown trail to her left, Hermione rushed towards it and scrambled up the light slope into the cover of the snow-ridden trees that lined the path. She could make out two distinct voices now, and realized suddenly that it was Harry and Ron that were making their way back to the village from the Shrieking Shack. As she slowly backed up the hill, hoping the boys wouldn't grow curious about her footprints heading off the path, she heard a twig snap loudly under her foot and froze in place.

Harry, who she could see clearly between the branches stopped suddenly and held his hand up to motion for Ron to do the same. He slowly turned towards the noise and cocked his head to the side as if to listen for it again. "Did you hear that?" he asked Ron quietly, "I think there's someone up there…"

"Come off it," Ron sighed exasperatedly, "it's probably a bird or something- I'm cold! Can we just get inside already?" Harry dropped his hand reluctantly and backed away from the hillside, but didn't continue walking.

"Could you be any more impatient mate? _This _is why Hermione's mad at us- it's all your fault you know." Ron turned towards Harry and made a sound of annoyed disbelief.

"_My_ fault! Blimey! Why does everything have to be _my_ fault?"

"Well- why do you always have to antagonize her like that?" Harry asked, as he leaned against the rotting fence and looked out at the Shack.

"What? I didn't say a thing-"

"Practically throwing your Arithmacy papers in her face like that wasn't exactly the smartest thing to do at the time…"

"She's the one who insisted that she look them over in the first place. Remember how she was going on about how important a subject it was? '_Arithmacy is the foundation for all other branches of magic! How can you turn in such shoddy work? Professor Vector will be appalled!'"_ Harry burst out laughing at Ron's unflattering impersonation of their friend. "Besides," he continued, "she's always in a foul mood lately, just because that stupid cat ran away. It was a menace, that thing, I'd be celebrating if I were her," he declared nonchalantly as he lobbed a rock in the direction of the Shack. "And she's always lecturing about something; I swear she's turning into McGonagall!" At that, the boys began rattling off ways in which she was, and someday would be, like their head of house. Eventually the conversation turned elsewhere and the duo continued on their way, leaving Hermione to fume silently.

The sound of slow clapping snapped her out of her reverie, and she spun around to find a very amused looking Draco Malfoy staring back at her. Before she realized it, her wand was in her hand and pointed at him, but the look he was giving her made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. "No need for that Granger, I'm not really in the mood to fight."

Hermione snorted in disbelief, "that's a new one Malfoy; but if you think I'm putting my wand away because of your false reassurances, you couldn't be more wrong." Malfoy, to her surprise, made no move to reach for his wand, but continued to fix her with an unnerving look of curiosity, amusement and something almost like pity.

"Well I guess I can't blame you," he said as he turned away from her and began to slowly walk towards a small clearing, " I suppose we _did_ get off on the wrong foot."

Hermione stared at the back of his neatly trimmed head incredulously, "wrong foot? And what, pray tell, would the _right_ foot have been? Having me expelled from Hogwarts before we ever had the chance to meet?" she asked angrily as she carefully followed him with her wand still raised.

Malfoy stopped and turned to look at something at his feet; as Hermione slowly approached, she realized that he was standing on the bank of a small frozen pond. She looked up at Malfoy curiously, and regarded his profile; he had high cheekbones and a strong chin, but a delicate and slightly upturned nose which coupled with his silvery blonde hair and finely cut dark robes gave him an almost angelic look. He hadn't replied to her acidic comment, and looked as though he were searching for the answer in the dark, glassy ice at his feet. "Do you like it? I come here when I need to think."

Hermione was thrown off by his sudden change in demeanor, but told herself assuredly that she wouldn't play whatever game he had planned. "Where are your goons Malfoy? I'm surprised to see you without them." She asked as she cautiously approached the icy water.

"They're hung over, for the millionth time this week, and quite useless for the next 12 hours or so," he responded in a tone that could have been mistaken for conversational. Hermione suddenly tensed as she realized how alone they were. Malfoy was acting oddly and Crabbe and Goyle were nowhere to be seen; this could easily be a trap. Malfoy, who was still facing away from her, correctly interpreted her silence and began to speak before she decided to bolt. "And what about you? Where are your goons?"

Hermione smiled, despite her trepidation, at the thought of Harry and Ron as her goons and couldn't help but to answer, "Lurking around here somewhere, no doubt…" At that, Malfoy tuned around just in time to catch a small smirk fading from her lips and raised a brow in response.

"Trouble in paradise Granger…?" He asked slowly with a small smirk of his own.

"You could say that…" She replied carefully, as she furrowed her brows in suspicion.

"Well, the good thing about goons," Malfoy replied with a more pronounced smirk, as he turned his head slightly to observe something beyond the trees, "is that they always come running back."

Hermione was now gaping at the boy in astonishment; was he comforting her?


	6. A Proposition

***I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters- that's JK Rowling's prerogative***

**Hey guys! Thanks for all the comments (and corrections) they're really getting me excited about getting this story out of my head and onto the paper! **

**Keep me updated as to how you guys like the chapter lengths/paragraph lengths/ characterizations etc. I love hearing your opinions :)**

**Just to warn you, I like to take it slow with my characters, and a lot of people get a little frustrated with the pace. To me these are 'real' people with real emotions and issues to sort through- so no one is going to fall madly in love on the drop of a hat, Rome wasn't built in a day! **

**And as for posting new chapters, I'm thinking 1 or 2 per week should be a realistic goal. I know where this story is heading and I've got the bare bones of the plot mapped out, but everything in between is the tricky part- there's a lot of loose ends that need to be neatly woven together, and since I'm a perfectionist that'll take some work. So bear with me! And enjoy! ~**

Draco realized too late that he was practically grinning at the girl in front of him. The same girl who had slapped him in the face in 3rd year and the same girl who he had spent years calling 'beaver.' Whatever had happened to those buck teeth anyhow? He could have sworn they had used to be unnaturally enormous… come to think of it, this was the first time he'd properly looked at the girl since he'd met her. The night he'd spent nursing her back to health had passed in an adrenaline-filled haze, and all the years before had been spent in utter contempt of her.

But now that he did regard her, he could see that she was not the same bushy-haired bookworm he'd met on the Hogwarts Express so many years ago. Aside from her teeth, her frizzy mane had calmed down slightly, and instead of resembling the Whomping Willow in a bad mood, it looked much more like a drunken lark's nest. Her robes weren't in tatters like Weasley's, but the material bulged and stretched oddly atop her baggy muggle clothing and ruined the stately effect that such expensive robes were meant to have. On the whole, Malfoy concluded, the girl was no longer as much of an eyesore as she had once been, but she was certainly no Padma Patil either.

He was quickly pulled out of his thoughts before they had the chance to dwell on the raven-haired Ravenclaw beauty any further by a small pile of snow slipping off of a nearby branch and loudly depositing itself into the pond. Draco blinked, realizing that they had both been staring at each other oddly for an uncomfortable amount of time, and dropped his gaze to the dirty snow at his feet. Hermione quickly followed suit and clamped shut the mouth that had been hanging open in incredulity.

"Is that how it is with Crabbe and Goyle?" she asked suddenly as if to cover the silence that had become increasingly awkward.

"Hmm?" he replied with equal amounts of wit, as he roused himself from his thoughts.

"I mean –they're not really your friends are they?" she clarified, half out of the need to fill the cavernous silence and half out of her naturally untamable curiosity. She reasoned that if he truly was under the influence of some sort of curse or potion, she may as well take advantage of the opportunity, after all, he didn't seem to be in any immediate danger, and he would doubtlessly have done the same with her…

Draco shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her openly curious gaze. He had never really made the distinction between lackey and friend, and even _thinking_ about trying to answer the question made him feel oddly defensive. Besides, aside from bloodshot eyes, a runny nose and a horrible haircut, the girl didn't seem to be suffering from any life-threatening maladies. And if she'd suspected him of anything insidious she would have said so by now; Granger was an open book, and he'd already gotten the answers he'd been looking for. So, why was he still playing along?

"Why… do you ask?"

"I mean –I didn't mean to suggest that they weren't! I'd just always assumed that they stuck around because of … your name."

Draco studied the witch before him thoughtfully, taking in her redness and the obvious look of abashed contrition she now wore. Just minutes ago she'd had her wand pointed at his heart, and now she wanted to spare his feelings! He'd seen enemies join hands and friends stab each other in the back often enough, but this was something completely different. The look in her eyes was, for lack of a better word, real…

"I guess I've never really thought about it. I mean I know why they stick around –and it's not because of my name. It's because of my father's."

The steely glint in his eyes disappeared as quickly as it had come, but there had been no mistaking it. Something about his father had made him angry; the very same boy for whom 'wait until my father hears about this,' had practically been a catchphrase. The laughably naive idolatry that had perfused his tone when he spoke about his father was gone and, despite her better judgment, she wanted to know why.

"It's getting late," he muttered quietly, cutting her off before she could speak. "You should get back indoors before that nose gets any redder."

"Right," She replied lamely, taken aback once again. "I guess I'll see you in the castle."

Draco nodded and turned back to the pond.

Hermione was a smart witch, and she could take a hint when one was so obviously handed to her, but something inside her refused to let her walk away from such an intriguing conversation without getting the last word.

"By the way, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with professor Sinistra the other day before class," she began, ignoring his snort of disbelief, "and if you need help –you have an owl…"

Draco turned to look at the girl with an unguardedly flustered expression of his face and a knotted tongue in his mouth, but she had already turned on her heel and disappeared into the snow-laden trees, hiding her victorious grin from his view.

Whatever was wrong with Malfoy was a mystery, and there was nothing Hermione Granger liked better than a good mystery.

**Well that's it for chapter 6! I know it's a little shorter than some of my previous chapters, but I felt like it was a good place to end (I've got a thing for short chapters sorry guys!)**

**So they've finally had their first real discussion! (phew that was work…) but don't let this fool you, they're not going to make it easy for each other ;)**


	7. Caving In

**Hey guys! Been a week, so here's the next installment! Thanks so much ****to Elysse Fray 111**** and ****Pinkcrazyness**** for reviewing! It really means so much to me to know that you guys are interested in seeing more **

Draco fiddled listlessly with the soft sphinx feather on his quill. His aunt Bella had given it to him on his 16th birthday; she had claimed it helped the user focus, but after fifteen minutes of staring at Jupiter's star charts he was beginning to suspect that even firewhisky would have done a better job.

Alexander was perched beside him atop a particularly ugly floor lamp, nibbling on a discarded biscut. The owl spent a fair amount of his time in the Slytherin common room (seeming to disdain the owlry), and Draco suspected it was because of some odd sense of Malfoy pride that the owl had acquired.

Looking at Alexander brought back Granger's last words to him at the pond; words that he had stubbornly been trying to forget. The thought of a Malfoy getting any sort of help from a muggleborn! It was unthinkable. And even if he did decided to pen a tiny letter about the homework, Lucius would find out somehow –that man had eyes everywhere…

The alternatives were equally as appalling, however. If this went on, Professor Sinistra would fail him and he didn't ever want to find out how Lucius would react to that. He could ask Pansy, he mused for a crazy second, but asking favors of a Slytherin always came at a price, and Pansy was one of the last people he wanted to owe anything to.

Draco could no longer recall what form of temporary insanity had possessed him to take another year of Astronomy when he had already completed the required minimum. Perhaps Pansy had poisoned his drink…

He angrily threw his books and papers from the table, causing Alexander to hoot and flap angrily from his perch, Making up his mind, he quickly stood and opened the high window for Alexander with a wave of his wand.

"You've got to go Alexander, I can't use you this time." The own hooted angrily, but crawled out of the open window none the less. The dungeons had the disadvantage of only having one window high enough to be above ground, but Alexander was a determined creature, Draco noted with pride.

Gathering up his scattered supplies, Draco made his way to the entrance, hoping all the while that he wouldn't run into any of his inquiring peers.

Draco slipped out through the stone archway, only the sound of expensive shoes clicking softly against the flagstones gave away his movements. Unfortunately for Draco, Slytherin ears were sharp, and he didn't get far before he heard his name echoing down the hallway.

He turned slowly towards the voice, knowing it was too much to hope for that it had been calling out to a different Draco, yet hoping all the same.

"Hello, Theo" Draco responded tersely, hoping the sandy-haired wizard would take the hint and bugger off.

"Draco, hey –I was hoping I'd run into you!" the boy said with a slight smile, seemingly oblivious to Draco's dislike for his use of the term 'run into'. For having such a terrifying father, the boy acted positively Hufflepuff at times… His lanky stature and awkward gait lent even more to his childish demeanor, and Draco found it difficult to stay angry at him for long; it was too much like being angry at a Kneezle pup.

If Theo noticed his friend's churlish attitude, he didn't' show it, and his mild mannered smile remained steady.

"Well I heard Pansy saying at dinner that the Christmas Ball was cancelled this year due to an emergency," he said with a tone that bordered concern. "And," he began before Draco could cut him off, "if you've got time during the holidays, I'd love it if you spent some time with us at our new summer house in Nice."

So, Draco thought bitterly, this is where his parents had decided to dump him for the Summer? Nott wasn't bad company, but there was something odd about him that unsettled Draco; no Slytherin should be that cheerful… Besides, de decided, throwing a wrench in his parents' plans was always fun.

"Thanks for the offer Theo, and send my regards to Mrs. Nott, but I'm afraid I won't have time for a visit." This threw the taller boy off a bit, as he probably hadn't been expecting Draco to choose a snowy Scottish castle over the beaches of Southern France.

"Oh," he replied with confusion coloring his voice, "well perhaps another time then. See you around Malfoy."

Draco turned back in the direction of his destination, hoping with each confident step that he wouldn't regret the decisions he had made that day. Sure, Theo was nothing like his father, but such easy allies were hard to come by, and his father would scold him soundly if it damaged their –relationship? Friendship? Why did he even care what it was called. Of course there could only be one reason why, he fumed as he waited for the fickle staircases to rearrange themselves, and for some crazy reason he was going to speak to her again. Fate had rolled his dice, and they had not landed in his favor.

He would now have to owl her and take her up on the offer and though he was reasonably certain that she was not a spy for Lucius, he had to make certain of her intentions before he left himself open for this kind of humiliation. He had to test her.

...

Hermione huffed quietly as yet another giggle erupted from the gaggle of Gryffindor girls on the adjacent table. Far be it from her to dissuade anybody from visiting the library, but if all they had come to do was gossip then there were far more appropriate places to do so!

"_Are you __sure__ it was Seamus?"_ squealed one excited fifth-year,_ "I always thought he was interested in Parvati?"_

Hermione decided that she could take no more, and stood angrily, with every intention of using her Head Girl powers to her full advantage when a sudden tapping alerted her to an owl at the nearest window.

Hermione stared at the window in confusion. Through the stained glass, she could barely make out the shape of the bird, but her confusion lay in the odd hour and place of the delivery; letters were usually meant to be delivered only in the mornings. She approached the window with apprehension, wondering if it was proper to let an owl into the library at all. She thought that perhaps it was the Head Boy (a detestable Hufflepuff by the name of Zacharias Smith) who often went as far as owling her from another room in order to avoid seeing her. The thought of her sandy-haired counterpart only deepened her scowl, but she decided to let the bird in before it hurt itself.

The girls she had been about to scold were still blissfully ignorant of the Head Girl and the owl –as well as their narrow escape from punishment at the hands of the former, and they continued to chat enthusiastically about some unusual romantic pairings and their most recent purchases.

Hermione opened the window with a tug, and took an involuntary step backwards as a rush of cold air and feathers flew towards her face. She quickly shut the window once again and turned towards the owl which had perched itself on a book ladder behind her. The owl raised a leg towards her and fixed her with an expectant stare, as though ordering her to rid it of the burden. Curiosity finally bubbling over, she hastily unwound the cord from its leg and unrolled the small scrap of parchment.

'_If you were serious about the offer, meet me in the Astronomy Tower at 10. Jell no one. –M'_

**Weell? What do you think? I know they didn't meet this chapter- but rest assured they certainly will in the next one! Review and tell me what you think! Even if you hate it! I still want to know!**


	8. Building Up

**Rainbow Breaker –you totally made my day! No, you made my week! I'm glad you like it so far, and yes Dr. Draco was pretty adorable wasn't he? I just love it when he gets all caring and confuzzled ^_^ (btw I love your avatar)**

**I know the last chapter was incredibly short and very unfulfilling , so I'll try my best to make up for it in this one!**

**Also, I don't own Harry Potter- and I'm kinda' glad I don't, that would be so stressful!**

…

Hermione re-read the tiny note over and over again to herself in a breathless whisper, it's not that she'd never tutored a Slytherin before, in fact there were many lower-year Slytherins that had come to her for help on the sly over the years; it was just that this was no ordinary Slytherin, this was Draco Malfoy, Harry's sworn enemy, and no great admirer of her or Ron either. She couldn't count the number of times he'd called her horrible names over the years, or how hard he'd worked to make the three of them as miserable as possible; if he'd spent half of that energy on his studies, she mused, he might even rival her in top marks. She could no longer recall what sort of odd one-upmanship had possessed her to suggest such an arrangement, but every sensible bone in her body was telling her to ignore the note. Hermione found that she could neither move from the spot by the window, nor could she bring herself to sit down or put away the scrap of parchment that remained crumpled in her hand. The giggling girls had long abandoned their post and headed to their dormitories, and as head girl, she should soon be getting ready for patrols, but some sort of indecisiveness was rooting her to the plush carpet, preventing her from going about her routine.

She really should ignore the letter, she thought, Malfoy had never caused her anything but grief in the past, and his sudden change in attitude was incredibly suspicious. Harry and Ron would certainly have advised her strongly against it. After all, ten o'clock was an hour past curfew, and she knew that Malfoy didn't have patrol duty that night. If she did decide to go, it would only be to ensure that he wasn't there; and if he was, it would be her duty as Head Girl to censure him and deduct points. Zacharias would be patrolling the dungeons around ten, so it would be up to her to catch any stray students in the Astronomy Tower anyway…

With her mind fully made up, and her conscience clear, Hermione stuffed the note into her pocket and gathered up her already neat piles of belongings from the large oaken table. She took some time to return the books she had removed from the shelves back to their original spots as a gesture of goodwill towards Madam Pince, earning her a slight nod and a tight smile from the stern librarian as she headed out through her favorite set of doors towards Gryffindor Tower.

Hermione glanced towards a large grandfather clock as she stepped into the deserted hallway, noting that it was a quarter 'til nine, trying in vain to keep from thinking about how much time was left until ten. She walked quickly towards her destination, stopping only to remind a few loitering students to hurry towards their dormitories as well.

When she finally stepped through the portrait hole, she noticed Harry and Ron sitting in their usual spot, playing Wizard's Chess, surrounded by a small audience of admiring girls. Hermione would have rolled her eyes at their oblivious nature a week earlier, but now it made her jaw clench in anger; it was ridiculous that they received so much attention for simply being hot-headed and quickly jumping to conclusions. It wasn't that she envied their limelight, but if people only knew how often they'd saved the day through sheer luck…

Shaking her head slightly, Hermione closed the portrait hole behind her, only to realize that the common room had gone silent, and people were looking at her oddly. Harry had is mouth set in an odd way, and was looking as though he were about to say something to her. Ron on the other hand was slightly pink, and staring determinedly at the maroon rug at his feet. The rest of the common room was either looking at her in interest, or awkwardly pretending to be interested in other inanimate objects about the room. They were waiting for her, she realized –waiting for her to apologize!

She had always been the one to finally break down and fix it, never Harry and never Ron. Well not this time, she thought angrily; this time would be different. With that, Hermione glanced coldly around the room at the people who had abandoned her for their more flashy heroes, and ascended the stairs in silence.

…

The hours passed slowly for Draco as he alternated between pacing the room and staring blankly at the incomprehensible start charts before him. The more he looked at them, the more the pages began to look like an infinite series of rings dancing around before his eyes. He tiredly rubbed his face and yawned, stealing yet another glance towards the large wall clock at the opposite end of the room, sighing with relief when he realized that it was already 9:45. Quickly, he swept his papers into his bag and straightened his rumpled robes and tie, not that Granger needed impressing; even on his worst day he would look better than Granger at her best, but he had a certain image that he need to keep up, so he primped himself a bit in the ornate silver mirror by the door before slinging the bag over his shoulder and slipping into the corridor soundlessly.

Draco stopped for a moment to look back at the door that he had come through a moment ago, and watched with hidden glee as it vanished into the dark brick wall, leaving not a trace behind. He had come upon the Room of Requirement in his fifth year after a particularly difficult breakup with Pansy had resulted in numerous curses, both magical and verbal, being thrown about the Slytherin common room. Draco had never hit a girl in his life, but when Pansy had thrown his book bag into the fireplace, even he had been afraid of staying in the room with her a moment longer. So, naturally he had stormed out of the dungeons alone, knowing that not even Theo would be daft enough to follow him. He hadn't even known where he was going, but after pacing a deserted hallway a few times, trying to force thoughts of murder from his mind, he had noticed a door across from some painting of trolls doing ballet. The room had been a breath of fresh air for him, and if it weren't for Alexander and occasionally Blaise, Draco would have spent all of his time there.

By the time he had come out of this thoughts, the last set of stairs to the astronomy tower were at his feet. Draco wondered briefly if the girl would come, and an odd heavy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Ignoring said feeling, he climbed the long, winding steps and bundled his cloak more tightly around himself as the sharp winter air cut through his clothing like a knife through butter. It made no matter whether she came or not, he decided, it was a perfectly clear night and he could take some much needed measurements without being disturbed. When he reached the top of the stairs, he checked the shadowy corners for Filch's evil cat and any late night lovers that may have unwittingly put themselves in harm's way. Luckily the tower seemed free of life, and he set about putting his equipment and papers in order.

Astronomy really was an interesting subject when one had the time to study it outside of the books, Draco thought, it was just too bad that he had so many other things on his plate right now. He adjusted his telescope slightly to more easily make out Jupiter's second moon and jotted down a row of numbers. Just as he was about to check his watch, the soft sound of intentionally muffled footsteps reached his ears. Surely it could only be her, he reasoned, but there was no need to take unnecessary risks. He quickly melted into a dark corner and waited as a petite shadow emerged and painted the wall of the dimly lit corridor. The figure remained frozen in place for a moment, as though still unsure of its decision, but finally took a hesitating step forward onto the balcony. Draco stood silently in his corner, watching as the lithe silhouette made its way towards his telescope and bag, regarding both for a moment before turning slowly around to face the wall beside him. It was all he could do not to jump out and yell something at her, but he could see the soft gleam of her wand in her fist, and no amount of confidence in his reflexes could have tempted him to take that risk.

Waiting until she had turned safely away from him, he finally stepped forward into the starlight. Sensing movement out of the corner of her eye, the witch whirled around and held her wand steadily to his face.

"Malfoy," she stated plainly.

"Were you expecting someone else? So sorry to disappoint Granger…" he returned sarcastically.

"Right," she replied with awkward uncertainty, "well I'm here and I haven't told anyone, like you asked." Draco felt an odd twinge of anger at this statement; had she really not told anyone? How foolish could she be, sneaking off to meet one of her worst enemies in the dead of night without telling a soul –what if he actually had wished her harm?

Draco clenched his fists tightly, forcing the thoughts from his mind. What concern of his was it if she made stupid choices like sneaking off to the grounds at night or to the astronomy tower to meet him? She was doing as he'd told her, and for Draco that had always been enough.

"But don't think I came unprepared," she added quickly, noticing the dark look that had come across his face, "if I don't report back to the Head's Room in an hour and say the correct password, Smith has to wake the headmaster." Draco tried not to notice the immediate sense of relief that her words brought to him; perhaps she wasn't as naive as she seemed...

"Nothing that a good Polyjuice Potion and Legimency can't sort out," he joked with a grin. Granger did not look amused.

"I'm serious Malfoy if you so much as-"

"yes, yes –I know. You have my word that I won't harm you. Besides," he added with a smirk "out of the two of us, I think _you're_ the only one who's ever attempted any violence towards the other…" He watched with glee as the Head Girl reddened at the memory of slapping him in third year. "I mean, I've not once so much as lifted my wand to you, and there you are, striking people willy-nilly! Father told me that muggles were savage, but I guess I never realized how much."

Hermione listened in disbelief. "_Muggles_ are savage? Muggles haven't ever hurt a wizard!"

"Not for lack of trying, that's for sure"

"And you think that justifies torturing and killing them?" At this Draco winced and cast his eyes towards the frosted, starlit grounds. He opened his mouth, as though to say something, but quickly closed it again.

Just as the silence was becoming uncomfortable, he spoke. "You came here for a reason, didn't you? If you meant what you said, then we've got less than an hour to do this. And if you tell a single soul about this, you can rest assured that no spell on earth will save you from me."

Granger slowly nodded her acquiescence and began to pull out her own notes, all the while keeping him in her field of vision, as though to keep an eye out for any sudden movements. They worked almost silently through the hour, speaking only when clarification was necessary, but otherwise Hermione's immaculate notes were clear enough for his understanding. Occasionally an icy gust of wind would blow through the spire and girl would shiver and wrap her cloak more tightly around her. It was at these times that Draco had to almost physically restrain himself from handing her his cloak. It was hardly his fault that she had not chosen proper winter attire, and no matter how much she shivered, it was no longer any of his business. Besides, he chided silently, this was mudblood Granger, death was one thing, but he should have taken pleasure in her discomfort at least…

...

Hermione glanced at her watch with a gasp; had the hour wound down so quickly? Perhaps this was the difference between working with a wiling student and a hesitant one (like nearly all of her classmates). Despite his curses and grumbling, Hermione could easily tell that Malfoy did have an interest in the subject, and no matter how he tried to hide it, his enthusiasm had readily shone through his veil of indifference. Despite their initial trepidation, their mutual focus had distracted them from their distrust, and now that the trance was broken, they both shifted uncomfortably in the flickering torchlight.

"Well, I suppose that's all for tonight…" Hermione began as she rose slowly. Malfoy looked up at her from his perch on the black stone bench with an odd look on his face. "I mean, if you want to continue another time, that is," she added quickly. "We've got an exam at the end of next week, so if you wanted to…we could… continue," she finished lamely. The boy had lowered his head to begin packing away his things, so she couldn't see his reaction.

"Yea, sure," he responded, looking up suddenly. "Sunday?" Hermione nodded mutely, noticing that his gray eyes seemed almost to change to obsidian in the flickering light. She wondered faintly if it was the fire or something to do with old magical blood. The thought sent an odd shiver through her, and Malfoy's face twisted into the same unidentifiable look that he'd been giving her when he thought she wasn't looking; it was almost like anger, disgust and… pity? This sent another shiver through her, and she quickly turned away from him, forcing herself not to sprint back to the Head's Room.

"Granger," his voice halted her in her tracks, "what- why are you doing this?" Hermione turned back to face him hesitantly. He was still sitting on the bench, but this time his hands were loosely clasped and his elbows resting on his knees. The cold starlight made his silvery hair seem iridescent, and the angle at which his head hung allowed his locks to easily conceal his face from her inquiring eyes.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully, grasping about vainly for a suitable answer. "I suppose it's my duty to help –as Head Girl," she added quickly.

Malfoy had not stirred an inch from his position, and she took his silence as a dismissal. She hurried quickly down the cold, stone stairwell, hearing only her own footsteps echoing in the eerie silence, and tried again to think of a good answer to his question. The only thought that came to mind however, was, 'What have I gotten myself into?'

…

**Well that's that for this chapter! This one was a toughie for some reason… It was an awkward meeting so it was kinda' awkward to write too. When they start getting a little more heated then things will flow a bit more easily. **

**P.S. guys- let me know if the characters seem to be acting believably or not! I'd love to fix 'em :)  
**


	9. Darkness Falls

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

**A/N: mucho thanks to I M Sterling (are you really? My boyfriend has a friend named sterling… hmmm…) and Adrianiforever (who's Adriani if you don't mind my asking?) for reviewing- you guys are awesome **

**And Rainbow Breaker yes they do lend themselves to awkward situations! It's almost annoying since I rly prefer to write the juicy parts, but oh well… they're coming up soon!**

…

In an unusual show of camaraderie, Blaise had walked down to breakfast with Draco rather than his usual posse of doe-eyed, drooling witches. Doubtless, he'd heard from the usual gossip mills that Draco had been acting strangely; refusing Theo had brought up many questions, and Draco had refused to answer any of them. The walk itself would have been a silent and awkward affair if it had been anyone other than Blaise; the boy was practically his own one-man radio Draco thought irritably as he helped himself to a spectacular looking omelet. House Elves might look like the wrong end of a Blast-ended Skrewt most of the time, but one had to give them credit for their cooking skills. He recalled in second year when Potter had tricked Lucius into freeing his personal house elf; the thing had been a pathetic, annoying mess, and frankly, Draco had been more than happy to be rid of it. They had other house elves after all, he reasoned, and most were far less erratic.

As he brought a piece of jam-smeared toast to his lips, a whirlwind of feathers and talons pulled his attention towards the daily mail delivery. Other than a couple of first-years' packages landing in the porridge, all went smoothly. The birds had all but emptied out when his father's jet black eagle-owl swooped down and dropped a package in his lap; most of the other owls were afraid of him, so Draco had become accustomed to receiving his mail last. Draco quickly hid the parcel in his book bag, away from prying eyes, and stuffed the remnants of the toast into his mouth before taking a swig of apple juice and heading towards the double doors. He knew the package had to be a present of sorts from his mother, and usually he would have loved showing it off, but after refusing Nott's offer, he was afraid of her particular brand of retaliation, which was often subtle, but effective. Last summer he had angrily refused to show a distant cousin around London because she'd been too ugly for him to be seen with; in return his mother had decided to show Pansy his baby pictures, and she and her friends hadn't been able to greet him for a month without having a fit of giggles and making odd cooing noises. He grimaced at the memory, frightening a first year and causing him to trip over his laces and knock over a suit of armor.

In his rush to reach the dormitories, Draco had not noticed a determined pair of footsteps shadowing his own. By the time he did noticed her, however, it was already too late to hide. "Draco!" He clenched his jaw in annoyance and set his mouth at an uninviting angle as he slowed his pace and allowed her to catch up to him. "Draco, why did you leave so suddenly? We always walk to the meeting together!" she blurted out breathlessly, her chest heaving slightly from the exertion of matching his pace. Her sleek, black hair was slightly tousled from her jog, and her hypnotic, green eyes fixed his own with an intent stare. It had been almost a year since they had broken it off, and while she had sampled several wizards, he had chosen to stay away from women altogether. That was not to say he hadn't noticed them however, after a year of being alone the casual glances at passing figures and full lips had become less and less casual; all it took from a girl was a flirtatious batting of lashes and he was well distracted for a half hour.

Pansy had a thing for attention, and whether she got it from dating the captains of two Quiddich teams at the same time or from dating Draco after his run-in with a Hippogriff, she was relentless in her pursuit. So whatever reasons she had for her current pursuit of him, he knew it couldn't bode well for him. But when she licked her strawberry lips like that while talking to him, he thought distractedly, he was simply easy prey.

"I've got important things to do Pansy," he muttered, cutting her off mid-sentence and forcing his eyes from her amazingly _still_ heaving bosoms, " I'll meet you there." Draco didn't stay to watch her lips form into a pout, but he'd seen it enough times to be able to imagine it well enough. And as the silky sound of her sighed objections reached his readily pinkening ears, he quickened his pace further and hoped fervently that he had enough time for a cold shower before the prefects' meeting.

…

Hermione frowned at the paper spread out before her, and took a small sip from the cup of tea in her hand. Rita Skeeter's articles had begun to slowly creep back towards her earlier impertinence, and she made a mental note to send her a heartfelt note regarding her feelings in that aspect of her writing. _The Daily_ _Prophet_ was trash as usual, nothing about Voldemort's return had been written; in fact, there were several quotations featured which mocked Harry's assertions. As angry as she was at her two friends, she could easily tell on Harry's face what a toll it was all taking on him, and it worried her. He had been suffering nightmares all summer, and last she'd seen, his Occlumency training had not been going well. Luckily, most of Hogwarts had rallied behind him, and the students had worked hard to try and set their parents strait.

She sighed heavily and finished off her tea. As much as she felt for him, she had troubles of her own to deal with; her coldness in the common room had not gone unnoticed, and the stares and whispers had only become more pronounced. The curiosity over their fallout had quickly turned to disapproval; nobody seemed to understand why she had turned her back on the pair when it was her _duty_ to help the boy who lived. Her expression soured once more at the thought of her so-called 'duty.' It wasn't that she didn't believe in the cause, but the thought that their taking her for granted was only natural, and that her anger was an unforgivable betrayal, was just as infuriating. She wasn't their mother! She was their friend, and deserved to be treated as such –not a servant!

Hermione paced the empty common room angrily with the remnants of the _Prophet_ clutched in her shaking hands. She had decided to take her breakfast in Gryffindor Tower, as per her prerogative as Head Girl, and catch up on current events while taking advantage of the blessedly empty room. But being alone too often was a hazard as well, she realized, since her thoughts had begun to stray too often to dark places as of late. Checking her watch, she decided it was time to head down to supervise the Prefects meeting. She wanted nothing more than to walk back up the stairs and curl up in her bed, but knowing Smith, he would probably be doing the same, so she swung her bag onto her shoulder and set off through the portrait hole.

Being amongst other people was no walk in the park either, she realized as caught yet another group of girls whispering loudly and glaring in her direction. So far she had caught the words 'Granger,' 'shocking,' and 'what is her problem' in nearly half the conversations she'd had the misfortune to overhear, and far worse words in the other half. Her mood worsened considerably as she neared the Great Hall, where people didn't bother to keep their voices down. It was almost like a repeat of fourth year when Skeeter had spread all of those pernicious lies about her and Harry. Even then people had easily gobbled up the nonsense, and left her to cry into her pillow at night.

She was no stranger to tears however, she thought bitterly. She'd been bullied relentlessly throughout her childhood, and when she'd received that beautiful letter to Hogwarts on her 11th birthday, she'd cried for joy –believing with all of her heart that she had finally found a world that could understand and accept her. It hadn't accepted her though; she was teased once more for her looks and her love of knowledge. Even then it had been a thoughtless word from Ron that had sent her over the edge and very nearly gotten her killed!

Angrily she stormed through the doors to the Head's Room and glanced around at all of the waiting students. She took her place at the head of the table and waited patiently for the clock to reach the hour mark. Nearly all of the prefects were in attendance, she noted –all but one. It was easy to make out the silvery blonde boy that strode gracefully into the classroom; his hair looked damp from a recent wash, and caught the light even more readily than usual. If she'd been in a better mood she may have even stopped to envy his lustrous locks but unfortunately for him, the Head Girl was angrily reminiscing about their first meeting. She recalled how she had walked into his compartment in order to ask about Neville's lost toad. Though they had never met, and she had said nothing to offend him, he'd quickly cut her down to size; noting her unkempt hair, her protruding teeth and bossy mannerisms. He'd mulled over her surname for a minute before deducing that is was no magical name he'd ever heard of and deciding that she was a muggleborn –that had been the first time that she'd ever heard the word 'mudblood.' It had been he who had first destroyed her hopes for happiness in the Wizarding World, she realized angrily, and now she was _helping him_!

The object of her contemplations was as yet, blissfully ignorant of her thoughts, and was busily pouring over some assignment before him. Not for long, she thought, fixing him with a look of disdain as she prepared to begin the meeting. Not for long…

…

Draco frowned as he looked up at the bushy-haired witch sitting across from him; she'd elected to sit even farther away from him as usual, not that he was complaining, but it did make talking a bit of a chore, especially since they had to whisper. She'd been acting strangely all day –singling him out in the prefect's meeting and now she was barely saying two words to him, despite the fact that she was here solely for his benefit. Witches hardly ever made sense to Draco, but this one had stepped far beyond the usual boundaries of strangeness. "Does Pixie dust enhance the magnification or was that Dragon's blood?" he queried suddenly. Granger lifted her head slightly and mumbled something in his direction before returning to her book. "Sorry Granger," he said with an edge to his voice, "I think I _almost_ made that out- could you maybe scoot a little farther? Perhaps I'll be better able to hear you if you're sitting in the opposite tower?"

Granger lifted her head once again and gave him a look that would have made even Lucius proud. "I _said_, Dragon's Blood isn't used in astronomy- if you'd been paying attention in class you would know that Pixie dust distorts the image! You're thinking of Redcap nails," she said, shivering and pulling her cloak more tightly around herself as the December wind blew angrily through the tower.

Draco gritted his teeth and glared at his papers; the night air wasn't getting any warmer as the holidays approached, and yet Granger returned every time with the same thin cloak. He knew she wasn't wealthy by his standards, but she'd never been on Weasley's level –so why couldn't she buy a proper bloody cloak? Wasn't it better than freezing to death? Images of her lying in the dark with a pale sheen of snow covering her blue face flashed in his mind, reminding him how close he'd come to becoming a murderer. Sure, the magical world would be better without their kind dirtying up society, but dead was another thing. If only they could construct some sort of magical fence to keep all of them in the muggle world where they belonged…

The boy sighed and pulled off his cloak before he could change his mind; his clothes were more than warm enough for him, and sitting through another night of watching her shiver was not at all an enticing prospect for him. "Here," he held out the glimmering black cloth, "I'm getting sick of listening to your teeth chattering –and I'll bet every prefect in the castle can too." Rather than the look of grateful relief that he had been expecting, Granger stared at him as though he'd grown a third head.

"I don't want your stupid cloak Malfoy!" she hissed, "and if you're so sick of listening to my teeth, you can just leave!" Draco gaped at her in confusion, unable to trace the source of her anger. "The only reason we're up here in the first place is because you're so horrible at orbit-tracking that you probably wouldn't even be able to _find_ Jupiter from a different spot!"

Draco reddened considerably, and clenched his jaw in anger; nearly murder victim or no, now she'd crossed a line. "Well isn't this just the pathetic icing on the pathetic cake," he growled while stepping slowly towards her, "Mudblood Granger lecturing me? You know- I never thought weasel was particularly intelligent, but this time I think he's made the right call. You're bloody insane, you know that?" The girl took an involuntary step back, but he noticed her slip her hand into the pocket where her wand resided.

"Who do you think you are Malfoy? What makes you think you can talk to me that way after everything that I'm doing for you? You're right about that last part by the way," her voice grew louder when she noticed the twinge of guilt on his face, "I must be insane to want to help someone like you! You're not worth the mud on my boots!" With that, Granger turned sharply on her heel to make her dramatic exit.

Draco would have happily have let her go if a moving dot of light from the bottom of the stairwell hadn't caught his eye. "Granger, wait!" he rushed forward and pulled her back from the steps. "Someone's coming up!" he whispered urgently. Granger hadn't seemed to have understood his meaning, as she was still trying to escape his grasp. "GRANGER LISTEN TO ME!" he hissed, whirling her around to face him, "neither of us have patrol duty tonight!" She stopped squirming and stared open-mouthed into his eyes. Being caught together on the astronomy tower with no excuses would be a terrible blow to the both of them. "Now you have to trust me on this- I'm going to use a spell that you've probably never heard of before, but it _works. _Just trust me!" She stared into his steely eyes with a searching look on her face, trying to find a hint of deception in them before finally nodding.

"_Celaris" _he whispered as loudly as he dared with his wand pointing at the witch. He watched as she melted into the air like a wisp of colorful smoke before doing the same to himself.

…

Hermione didn't know what had possessed her to _trust_ Draco Malfoy with pointing a wand at her, but something had assured her that he wouldn't harm her –at least not just then. He had been right about the spell –she'd never heard of it before. That meant either that it was new, or that it was Dark; and quite likely both. The world looked hazy and unreal through her invisible eyes- as though she were seeing it from behind a very quiet waterfall. Movement was difficult, and her body felt sluggish and heavy. Suddenly a warm hand grasped her shoulder and pulled her further back from the torchlight. 'Malfoy', her mind registered slowly, dissolving some of the panic that had begun to well up in the pit of her stomach. The cold blue wandlight that had alerted them in the first place had slowly weaved up through the tower and was quickly chasing the shadows to their feet. Murmured voices could also be heard issuing from the archway.

"I could have _sworn_ I heard voices," the first hooded figure exclaimed after having searched the balcony. The person holding the lighted wand muttered something quietly and picked up a loose sheet of parchment and held it up to the light. "That's Hermione's handwriting," the first one said as he pulled off his hood to expose wavy orange locks, "I'd know her writing anywhere". Hermione bit the inside of her cheek to stifle a gasp; if Malfoy had left any of his papers lying around...

"Are you sure Ron?" came the distinctly high-pitched voice of Lavender Brown, "how can you tell from just her writing?"

"If you'd spent six years with her writing in red ink all over your assignments, you'd know it by sight too," Ron snorted bitterly. Even through the thick haze of the spell, Hermione could see the anger etched on his face, and she balled her fists at the ingratitude.

Lavender let the paper float to the ground carelessly. "Well, there's no other exit than the one we came through," she sighed. "Let's just go back –it's _freezing_!" As if to illustrate her point, she shivered dramatically and leaned in towards him to gather warmth. Ron's eyes sparkled mischievously the way they had always done before he suggested bending the rules.

"Well, since we're up here already…" Ron said as he pulled the girl even closer towards him and lowered his head towards her. Hermione's sense of relief instantly vanished as her stomach sank. It wasn't that Ron wasn't allowed to have relationships, but something about seeing him look at Lavender that way brought a painful lump in her throat. A tiny whimper of pain escaped her even though she was biting her cheek hard enough to draw blood. Malfoy's hand tightened painfully on her shoulder and her eyes went wide as Ron's head shot up and he squinted at her.

"Ron, what's wrong?" Lavender huffed in annoyance when Ron's hands unwound themselves from her waist.

"Did you hear something? I swear I heard something from over there" he said as he walked slowly towards her.

"Roooonn!" Lavender whined, "There's nothing there! You're starting to act like Harry!" This brought Ron's attention back to the blonde girl behind him, and she scratched his head sheepishly.

"You're right, let's go"

Malfoy waited until their footsteps had faded completely away before releasing the spell. She had expected him to start berating her for the close call, but when he caught a glimpse of her tear-stained face, his expression melted into something indescribable. He clenched his jaws and glared at the ground for a moment before bringing his stormy eyes back to her own and placing his hand gently on her arm.

"Let's go. There's something I want to show you."

…

**A/N: Oh gosh, I've been so incredibly busy! Finals and work and today's my birthday! This is my longest chapter yet because I just couldn't end it before I got that last scene in, so I hope you guys enjoy this one :)**


	10. Their Room

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews guys! And thanks for the birthday wishes! Makes me feel wuved ^_^**

**I M Sterling – I'm glad you're enjoying it**

**Rainbow Breaker –thanks! I was so proud of how mature Draco's being, but honestly I think he's more confused than chivalrous right now**

**Kermit 304 –thanks for all the reviews! Best birthday present ever! And I'm glad you think that I think like a Slytherin, that's probably the nicest compliment I've ever gotten on one of my stories :D**

**Whatweareafraidof –I think you've hit the nail on the head with your comment. Hermione is being a little self-righteous, but there are many reasons for that. First of all, I've always seen her as a patient, caring person, but also a very prideful and occasionally arrogant person as well. Secondly, I believe that she has good reason to feel used and betrayed since she's often the voice of reason and logic, but she's also often unfairly ignored because of her bossy demeanor. **

**Elysse Fray –sorry it was confusing!**

…

Hermione ghosted through the hallways as though under a spell. She could faintly feel Malfoy's hand on her elbow, leading her through the maze of corridors and stairways towards some unknown destination, but otherwise she felt numb and hollow. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps it was a side-effect of the spell he had used, but one look at his determined demeanor and assured stride told her that he couldn't possibly be suffering from the same symptoms. Surely it wasn't Ron's behavior that was having such an effect on her, she thought, what did it matter to her if he had decided to fall for Lavender's superficial charm? Sure, Lavender had a pretty face and always had her robes fitted a little too tightly, but she'd always thought Ron would have gone for someone more substantial. That was it, she decided, she was just disappointed that Ron's taste had turned out to be so… Was horrible the right word? Her head began to ache terribly, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, blindly following Malfoy through the dark.

Eventually they came to a stop, and Malfoy dropped her arm. She watched warily as he began to pace up and down the hallway with a look of deep concentration on his face. Perhaps she'd made a mistake coming here with him, she thought suddenly. She wasn't even sure where 'here' _was_! And it was beginning to look as though Malfoy wasn't completely right in the head after all… Before she could back away from the blond boy however, a large set of double doors appeared in the wall next to him, and he began to push them open. He glanced into the room quickly, a look of relief washing away his stern expression and motioned for her to follow him as he walked in. Numbly, she complied.

The room itself was not very big, despite the impressive set of doors that led to it. There were still-life portraits of flowers hanging on the walls, but in the magical tradition they rustled slightly when the door shut and created a small breeze. There were a couple of over-stuffed sofas in the center of the room, surrounding an old, tattered coffee table which held piles of assorted biscuits on a large, brass platter in the center. An incredibly old-fashioned tea service stood at the end of the nearest sofa and a steaming pot of tea filled the room with a rich leafy aroma. A few scattered floor lamps bathed the room in a warm glow and a small, brick fireplace hosted a bed of live embers.

Malfoy must have caught the look of trepidation on her face when she stepped in, because he began to speak in a very nearly soothing manner. "Do you like it? I call it 'the room of requirement' because it gives you almost anything you want so long as you _truly _require it." He paused for a moment as he gazed around at the decorations, and a slight sneer crossed his face for a moment. "I read about it in some history book before I actually found it though –and everyone said it was a myth!"

Hermione paused for a moment and turned to him inquisitively, "do you mean _Hogwarts: A History_? Is that the book you read it in?"

"Yea, that's the one," he replied casually. "Normally the room would look much more elegant, but since this is for you I suppose good taste was put on hold…"

Hermione ignored the jab and continued to survey the room. It oozed comfort, in fact it reminded her very much of her parents' living room. _My parents_, Hermione felt the words spear through her suddenly. It had been so long since she'd allowed herself to think about them and she felt something inside of her snap. Tears ran down her cheeks before she had even realized she was crying and a choking sob escaped her lips as she began to sink onto the soft, woolen rug. She felt pressure on her arm, and watched through watery eyes as Malfoy carefully navigated her onto a sofa and began pouring out two cups of tea. He worked almost mechanically, as though he'd been taking care of her all of her life. The thought of Malfoy taking care of her was turned her sobs to half-hearted chuckles, and then finally to hysterical giggles. He turned to look at her with equal amounts of fear and concern on his face and finally Hermione could take it no more.

"WHAT!" she screamed, "What are you staring at!" He didn't answer. "Why are you doing this? This is poisoned isn't it?" She flung the cup of scalding hot tea across the room where it shattered against the wall and sprayed a vase of painted posies with brown liquid.

"When was the last time you ate Granger?" he asked calmly, wiping a few droplets from his cheek.

"Ate?" she echoed incredulously, "Why do you care when I ate!"

"According to reputable sources, you haven't eaten in days –I know we may not like each other, but I won't let you starve yourself to death."

"I had a biscuit and some tea this morning," she snapped. "And who are these _reputable sources_? Are you _spying_ on me?"

"Look!" he hissed suddenly, "_don't_ mistake this for anything more than what it is! You said it was your duty as Head Girl to help me. Well it's _my_ duty as a prefect to make sure you don't kill yourself! Especially not after all the bloody trouble I went through to-" He stopped abruptly and stood up. Glowering at the shards of the tea cup she had tossed.

"All the trouble you went through to what?" Hermione asked slowly, narrowing her eyes at the blond boy who had his back to her. "All the trouble you went through to make my life a living hell? All the trouble you went through to make sure I could never look in a mirror without tearing up? All the trouble you went through to make me feel like a second-class citizen?"

Malfoy over at her through strands of slivery hair and scoffed, "don't be so dramatic Granger, all I did was tease you a bit. Besides, I didn't say anything that everyone wasn't already saying behind you back –in fact, I didn't say _half _the things they said behind your back. You should have heard what Parkinson said about you when you weren't around…" He nudged another cup of tea towards her end of the table as well as a plate of sandwiches. "In fact," he continued conversationally, "you should have heard some of the things that came out of your precious _Weasley's_ mouth –he's not so much of an angel as you seem to think."

"And what ever gave you the idea that I think he's an angel?" she retorted sourly, disliking this new topic. To her surprise, Malfoy began to chuckle lightly.

"What ever gave me that idea?" he asked with a sardonic laugh. "Are you serious Granger? You're bloody in love with him! _That's _what gave me that idea!" Hermione stared at him with her mouth hanging slightly open. In love? With _Ron_? What on earth was he talking about? "And by the expression on your face, one would think that you were the last to know!"

"I don't know what you're playing at Malfoy," she began earnestly, "but Ronald is my _friend_. And even though he's made mistakes, he's a good person –which is a lot more than I can say for you!"

Malfoy's expression darkened for a moment, but it passed quickly and he began munching on a sandwich with an amused expression on his face. "Tell me Granger, was Krum your first choice for the Yule Ball?"

"Victor is-"

"Yes, yes, I know: '_a good person, which is more than you can say for me,_' spare me the lecture and be honest with yourself for just one bloody moment. Was Krum your first choice? And if you can't answer that, then answer this; how much do you hate Lavender Brown?"

Hermione looked up at Malfoy with startled eyes. "What do you mean…"

"Don't play dumb Granger –I've been around enough women to know how they react when their men, or in this case rodents, are stolen by other women.

"You're not like Weasley and Potter, I can see it in you. You're not a whiney victim like the two of them; you're a fighter. So I have a proposition for you: you help me pass Astronomy and I'll help you destroy Brown." Before she could say anything, he turned to his book bag and pulled out a small, dirty envelope.

"Pansy found this on the ground after the Prefect's meeting. You send this to McGonagall and she'll have her prefects badge revoked in no time." Slowly she lifted the torn flap and pulled out a short letter and a photo. The letter was a love letter of sorts, a very childishly written love letter with hearts and curlycues abound, but the intentions were clear none the less. The recipient was to meet her in an empty classroom on the fourth floor after midnight in order to engage in activities that were implied by the picture she had included –the picture where she was lying on her bed in lingerie, nibbling coyly on her pinkie and winking at her camera.

"Justin?" she asked in a small, croaking voice, "who's Justin?"

"Finch-Fletchley I gather, he's pretty popular with witches that have horrid taste," he replied with a smirk playing at his lips. "Why? Disappointed it wasn't Weasley?"

"No –I –I" Hermione stuttered before snapping her mouth shut and glaring at him.

"Relax Granger, I couldn't care less how many redheaded brats of your own you want to pop out," he sneered. "Here, eat the sandwich or I'll toss this in the fire," he said, waving the photos in the direction of the crackling logs.

"NO! I mean, it's our duty to stop her from abusing her position as Gryffindor prefect. You can't burn those!"

Malfoy laughed once again, this time the intonation was much more genuine and the look on his face made him look almost friendly; thus setting her on edge and calming her down all at once.

"And you Gryffindors call _us_ insincere? At least we're sincere about our insincerity." Hermione looked away and muttered something inaudible into her sandwich. "So it's a deal then? You'll help me, and when our marks come out, I'll give this to you." He held out one manicured porcelain hand to her and clutched the envelope in the other as he stared intently into her eyes. Hermione hesitantly brought her ink-stained, broken-nailed hand up and grasped the one he'd offered. No good could come out of this she realized as they shook hands to seal the pact. But then again, 'good' was a point of view.

…

Draco took a long sip of ginger tea, it had been a while since he'd been able to sit back and enjoy the comforts of silence, and he wasn't about to let this opportunity go so easily. Granger was hunched over the coffee table, muttering to herself while she filled in some tables with obscure numbers. He'd long given up on working out the problems she'd set out for him to practice on, but in true bookworm fashion, she hadn't pulled her nose out of the parchment long enough to notice.

Her hair had begun to spill out of the ponytail that she had tied it with, and strands of frizzy, brown hair were partially obscuring her face. Even so, Draco could see the look of intense concentration she wore, something that was uncommon in their age. Usually when girls 'concentrated' around him, it was only so that he'd notice them sucking on their quills teasingly. Not that Granger was at all comparable to other girls; even if she hadn't been a muggleborn and Harry Potter's friend, she would still have been strange. He wondered why she'd been sorted into Gryffindor rather than Ravenclaw where it seemed she belonged. Why had she been put in with the likes of Brown, Longbottom and Weasley? Perhaps there was something under that studious, rule-abiding mask that he hadn't seen yet.

It was obvious why Potter and Weasley had been sorted there; the two of them didn't have a rule-following bone between the two of them –and to add insult to injury, they were always rewarded for their complete disregard for the rules. Lucius had always told him to keep his head down and never stray far from the lines where people could see him, because as far as Slytherins were concerned, bent rules were punished to the fullest extent. When it came to Dumbledore's 'Golden Boys' however, they were awarded points and medals! Draco realized that he'd been gritting his teeth and slowly calmed himself. Thinking about Potter always made his blood boil.

He looked back at Granger, who was muttering something to herself that he couldn't quite make out while flipping through a textbook that hadn't been assigned to them for class. Bringing her own books from the library? He snorted inwardly, could she be more of a nerd? He recalled how easily she had fallen apart earlier and frowned. He didn't know Granger all that well, but from what little he did know, there was no way something as small as Weasley kissing Lavender Brown would have made her dissolve into a teary mess so easily. Part of it had to be the stress of being ostracized by her Gryffindor 'friends'; Pansy had taken it upon herself to update him on everything circling through the rumor mill. So now he know that Millcent Bullstrode was going to fail most of her classes and would need to repeat the year; he knew that Weasley and Brown had been snogging up a storm in empty classrooms all around the castle; and he knew that Hermione Granger was a frigid shrew for giving her two besties the cold shoulder for no other reason than homework. His intuition told him it had to be something else; and after years of roving in pureblood circles, Draco trusted his intuition with his life.

He had known that Brown's letter would come in handy, but he'd really envisioned using it against Weasley rather than his snogging parter; the girl wasn't a paragon of intelligence or virtue, but she wasn't bad to look at, and he'd enjoyed a few of her coy glances on occasion himself. The fact that Pansy had _given_ him the letter was a little disconcerting. Anyone that knew Pansy knew that she had an agenda behind everything, and giving up a valuable piece of leverage like that was the Slytherin equivalent of… well, he wasn't sure if there was an equivalent.

He recalled how pale and haggard Granger had looked all day, as though the life had been seeping out of her. The sandwiches may have brought a tinge of colour back to her lips, but it would take more than a few pieces of bread to bring back the bossy, muggleborn witch he loved to hate. The only time he'd seen her look anything like herself had been when she'd read the letter. Whether she'd realized it or not, Granger's face had lit up with an oddly Slytherin look that had promised vengeance. If not a badger, he mused, then perhaps she could have even been a snake.

…

**A/N: Hey guys, I tried getting this out as quickly as I could, summer is upon us in the Emerald City and since we see so little of the sun I keep wanting to be out and about rather than at home typing, but I still got it done! (yay me)**

**They're sloooooowly drifting together. They're going to learn a few new things about each other and I think next chapter or so we can start to see some good 'ol dramione drama just the way we like it ;)**

**By the way, the title of this chapter is the title of one of the first dramione stories I read when I found this site, I haven't read it in a long time, but from what I remember it was brilliant –you guys should check it out if you get the change (its on my favorites list too if you can't find it)**

**Comments and suggestions are much appreciated as always, and I just wanted to reiterate how much you made my day Kermit (in fact I dedicate this chapter to you, congrats) :P**


	11. Turning Heads

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

**A/N: Hey guys, sorry it's been a while. I've had a few difficult decisions to make this past week, and just haven't had the energy to write. But I think the best way to pull myself out of a mood is to let my creative juices flow, so here goes nothin'**

…

The temperature in the hallway seemed to drop a few degrees once Draco had made sure the door had closed properly behind him and turned back around to look at the confused-looking witch in front of him. It wasn't often that Draco admitted to being made uncomfortable, but this time there was no denying it. Once the novelty of their tenuous partnership had worn off, she had gone right back to looking at him with those annoyingly penetrating eyes. He wondered if she had learned Legimency and shuddered at the thought. She certainly had the potential, but it just didn't seem to fit with her high-horsed ideals. Lucius had been going on about getting him tutored in the art before his aunt Bella had excitedly suggested that it might make him more valuable to the Dark Lord. He'd never heard it mentioned since. Draco shook his head to clear away thoughts of his family and focused back on the witch that was studying him curiously in the dim light.

"Right," he said uncomfortably, "tomorrow then. Don't get caught." He quickly turned on his heel and began to walk towards the dungeons. He stopped to look back at her and noticed that she hadn't moved.

"Do you even know where we are?" he asked suddenly. She shook her head. He cursed under his breath and walked bck to her with his wand raised. Instinctively she raised her own.

"Stop right there Malfoy!"

"Keep your voice down! I'm not going to attack you! That bloody cat is always prowling around here –can't let her see me walking you back to Gryffindor tower can we?" She slowly lowered her wand and he cast the invisibility spell on the both of them.

"Malfoy?" came her small voice. "I –I can't see you…"

"Don't worry Granger, I can see you just fine."

"How is that possible? Is it because you're the caster?"

"10 points to Gryffindor" he said sarcastically as he grabbed her wrist. She recoiled from the contact at first with a gasp. "Look, I don't want to touch you any more than you do me, but if there's a better way to do this then I don't know it." She reluctantly held her hand out with a scowl on her face, allowing him to take it once more. "No need to look so put out Granger, half the girls in your house would kill to be in your position."

"You do realize that you actually gave us points back there?" Draco grimaced at the realization and increased his pace without a word. He removed the spell when they finally got to the tower and walked wordlessly away, leaving Hermione to stare strangely in the direction of the receding footsteps.

…

The day had passed far too slowly for Hermione's liking. Ron and Lavender acted normally for the most part, but Hermione didn't miss the winks and kisses she threw him when she thought no one was looking. The thought of them together made her stomach turn, but she couldn't avoid the thoughts forever. Malfoy's words had been echoing through her head ever since he'd said them, and Perhaps he'd been right about her. She had tried to convince herself that she would have felt the same way if it had been Harry instead, but even she could not lie to herself that much. Sure she'd be disgusted and disappointed, but heartbroken? No.

Her thoughts wandered back to the previous night's escapades, and the memory of breaking down in front of _Malfoy_ of all people made her face flush. She'd never felt so helpless, and it confused her to no end how, for lack of a better word, _helpful_ he'd been. He'd know exactly what she'd needed somehow; hot tea and a thick book. It was something like her dad would have done… She stopped her thoughts in their tracks and stood up from the stiff wooden chair quickly.

Lunch had only just begun, she noticed, glancing at the clock on the wall. Maybe Malfoy was right, and she did need to start eating regular meals again. Between all the whispers and glares it had become difficult to drag herself into the great hall anymore. And it had always been Harry and Ron that had forcibly extracted her from her work when she forgot about mealtimes. Steeling her resolve, Hermione set out through the oaken doors. She was _Head Girl _ for crying out loud! She refused to be cowed by a bunch of gossiping ninnies.

A slight hush ran through the hall as Hermione walked purposefully through the great double doors towards Gryffindor table. She ignored the spiteful glares of Harry and Ron's various groupies, and sighed inwardly. It seemed like she couldn't get anything right; if she dated Harry they hated her, and if she ignored Harry they hated her!

As she approached her housemates she noticed quite a few pairs of downturned eyes and sheepish glances. She noticed Harry glance hopefully up at her and shift a little to revel an empty spot beside him, but she also noticed Lavender nudging closer to Ron, who was still busily working away at a chicken wing. Scowling slightly, she turned her eyes away from her two best friends and spotted Neville sitting a little ways away from their group, and giving her an uncertain smile. She gratefully took a seat beside him and calmly went about serving herself portions.

Neville, to his credit, tried his best to distract her from the situation, and began discussing a paper he'd come across highlighting newfound medical properties of Gillyweed. Neville quickly became quite enthusiastic in his explanations, but as much as she loved to learn, Hermione found that she could not match his interest in the subject. Her eyes wandered across the room and her gaze met a pair of steely gray eyes that were watching her with some interest. Hermione quickly turned back to Neville, color seeping into her cheeks for some unknown reason, she vowed silently not to look back at the annoying blond Slytherin.

…

Draco stirred his soup lazily and rested his chin on the heel on his palm. His hair was growing too long and had begun to drape over his eyes on occasion, something that bothered the normally immaculate boy to no end. If he didn't get it trimmed soon he might end up looking like Granger. He smirked at the thought and then frowned; since when was looking like Granger not disgusting? He was pulled from his thoughts by a noisy barrage of footsteps and giggles; clearly Blaise and his posse had shown up. He tilted his head slightly up and acknowledged the boy with a minute nod.

"Draco Malfoy early to lunch?" Blaise asked with exaggerated shock, "looks like we'll all be needing mittens when we die ladies, because hell has just frozen over!"

The girls all tittered sillily and fawned over their favorite dark, handsome comedian. Draco however, glowered at the boy and turned his attention back towards his tepid soup. Soon Pansy walked in and joined the group, helping herself to soup as well as Draco's attention whether he liked it or not. There was no longer doubt in his mind that Pansy wanted something from him, and until he knew what her game was it would be too dangerous to push her away.

"Draco, darling, why aren't you eating anything? You've been looking positively ill as of late and we're all so concerned," Pansy exclaimed. Draco lifted his head from his unsatisfying meal and looked around the table, no one seemed particularly concerned about him, and gave Pansy a pointed look that said as much. "And where have you been sneaking off to these days?" she continued, ignoring the look, "You're hardly ever in the common room," she pouted.

Draco glowered inwardly at her words; she'd been trying to tail him when he left for the Room of Requirement, but he'd been able to shake her off and use the invisibility spell every time. Pansy was a bit of a wiz when it came to Potions and Astronomy, but luckily for him she was rubbish at spells.

He opened his mouth to mumble something noncommittal when a hush fell over the room, and heads began to swivel in the direction of the double doors. It was Hermione Granger.

He didn't know why exactly, but something about the fierce determination on her face, and the way she handled Weasley's inexcusable rudeness, made him feel an odd sort of grudging respect for her. He hadn't liked the bruised and broken Hermione Granger that he'd been seeing lately. Her fire and tenacity were by far her best traits –few as they were…

"Can you believe that Gryffindor bint? I heard Weasley asked for help with homework and she just lost it!" Pansy remarked to an equally witless witch sitting across from her. "Think of all the possibilities though!" she added excitedly. "now that she doesn't have her bodyguards around her… Don't you think so Draco? Let's mess with her!"

Draco however, had had been caught up in catching the Gryffindor girl's eye, and though she had looked away immediately, he could have sworn she'd smiled.

"Draco?" Pansy asked slowly, following his previous line of sight, "did you hear me?"

"What is it Pansy?" he returned, hoping he'd kept his mounting irritation out of his voice.

"I was just discussing with Sophia, how much easier it'll be to mess with miss goody-two-shoes now that she doesn't have her bodyguards around her all the time."

"Oh grow up Pansy! We're not in first year anymore! And if you haven't noticed, she's _Head Girl_! If any of you brainless idiots tries anything, I guarantee you'll be expelled before the end of the week," he hissed as he rose from the table and walked towards the doors. He could no longer stand to be around their foolish short-sightedness. Did they think everything was a game? That life had no consequences?

There was still double potions with the Gryffindors to get through before the day was done, so he tried to calm himself. Professor Slughorn was all for inter-house cooperation, and with his luck he'd end up with Finnigan or worse –one of the golden boys…

…

Draco growled peevishly at a Ravenclaw first year, who had made the mistake of tripping into him in the hallways. The boy subsequently backed away with small, slow steps, keeping his wide, bespectacled eyes locked on Draco the whole time. It wasn't the boy's fault that Potions had been a disaster, but since he couldn't make Slughorn wet his pants without getting expelled, the first year would have to do.

He had been saddled with Weasley for some incomprehensible reason, and if that hadn't been bad enough, Pansy had been partnered with Granger. She'd been licking her lips and winking at him the whole time, and if Granger hadn't noticed then he was a Hippogriff's uncle. Normally he would have delighted in making the prudish Gryffindor uncomfortable, but this had made _him_ uncomfortable, and that was inexcusable. Weasley had been no better, he'd spent the whole time drooling over Lavender Brown –literally _drooling_. Suffice to say, their Wiggenweld potion had been a little too watery.

The crowded halls seemed suddenly stifling despite the winter chill seeping through the stained glass, and he found himself in the astronomy tower before he knew where he was going. It had been a short day, and twilight was settling upon the sparkling, snowy grounds. The lake was as still as glass, and the giant squid nowhere in sight.

The sound of soft footsteps behind him caused him to turn around and see none other than Hermione Granger.

"Granger? What are you doing here?"

Instead of answering, she sauntered slowly towards the balcony and rested her arms against the ledge. "I saw you come up Draco, is something the matter?"

"Why do you care?" he asked suspiciously.

"Oh come on, you can talk to me," she assured him with a small smile and large doe eyes.

Draco had no idea how to respond to this new Hermione, had he misinterpreted her actions in the Great Hall? Was she drunk? Cursed?

When he didn't respond, she continued. "Besides, I saw how you were looking at me in the Great Hall this afternoon, don't deny it Draco… you want me." His eyes widened as she sidled closer towards him, suggestively biting her lower lip and tugging at the front of his robes to pull him towards her. Her bushy hair seemed slightly tamer than usual, and it even looked like she was wearing makeup.

"S- stop Granger –what are you doing?" he implored hesitatingly. Something was wrong, he thought distractedly as she tilted her berry-red lips towards his own, something _had_ to be wrong.

"What's the matter _Drraco_,"she asked breathily, "no one's going to see us…"

He struggled desperately with himself to keep a clear head as she pushed herself against him suggestively and licked her lips –_wait, _he thought, _I've seen that look before!_

"Pansy?" he asked, as he grabbed the curly haired witch by the shoulders and pushed her roughly away from him. Her lips curled into a sinister looking half smile that looked utterly perverse on Hermione Granger's face.

"Oops," she replied innocently, "looks like you caught me"

"_Just_ _what the hell_ do you think you're doing?" he roared, causing the girl to take a small step back from him.

"It was just a _joke _Draco! Lighten up! You _used _to have a sense of humor," she snapped as she pulled out of his grasp and slid her bookbag back onto her shoulder. "And stop being such an idiot! You think people can't see that you're behaving oddly? People are _talking_ Draco," she continued earnestly, "and believe it or not I'm on your side, so I'm trying to warn you; don't do anything you'll regret. Your name still means a lot here, _don't_ mess it up."

With that, she glided out the door and down the stone stairway before he could reply. '_People are talking'_? well if people were talking about him, it was obvious who they were talking _to_. Somehow Pansy had known about Granger, he'd have to be more careful in the future. She had mentioned his name, and the weight it carried with it. '_Why should she care?' _he wondered.

Running his hand through his untidy hair, he sighed and leaned against the ledge, there was no way he could handle going back to the common room with Pansy looking like that. She'd probably stolen one of Granger's hairs during potions and slipped it into a Polyjuice potion. If he knew Pansy, there's no way she'd pass up an opportunity like this, she was too smart to do anything outside of the Slytherin common room, but seeing Hermione Granger playing tongue hockey with some random bloke was enough to put him off the prospect of dinner. With another sigh, he pulled out his Astronomy notes and sat by a nearby telescope. If he couldn't eat or sleep, at least he could work.

…

**A/N: Well that didn't take nearly as long to write as I'd imagined. I find that some of my best ideas come to me when I'm just about to drift off at night, and it's SO FRUSTRATING! I don't want to forget them, but who wants to get up and jot stuff down when the sandman's calling? So things are getting a little complicated here with these three, they've all got secrets that I will slowly and painfully pry out of them! Bwaahahahaha! Man, I feel like a sadist writing this stuff sometimes…**

**Thanks for the awesome reviews guys!**

**RainbowBreaker: I know what you mean about Draco; he's quite the character, if I do say so myself… He is just so much fun to write, I LOVE getting in his head and making him all cute and cufuzzled ^_^**


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